


Howling in the Dark

by Belle_Lestrange101



Series: Silver in the Blood [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Beast Mode Sex, Blood and Gore, Bottom Harry, Character Death, Complete, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Horror, Insomnia, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Murder, Murder Mystery, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Poisoning, Psychological Trauma, Sequel, Suspense, Torture, Werewolf Turning, Wolfsbane Poisoning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-08-03 12:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16325984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle_Lestrange101/pseuds/Belle_Lestrange101
Summary: Sequel to 'SILVER IN THE BLOOD'.Scotland, 1890.It's nearly two years since the 'Jack the Ripper' incidents that plagued London's streets with an evil presence that preyed on women walking around alone. Now hidden away in a remote manor on the Scottish moors, Harry and his newfound 'family' live a quiet existence. An existence that is shattered every month when the moon is full in the sky.Harry has distanced himself from everyone, especially Draco, so that he can focus on finding a cure for Lycanthropy. However, his time is running out. Losing sleep and the constant travel between London and Scotland take its toll on Harry's psyche. So much so that his old Professor Severus Snape insists that he take a break from his research to rest and revive his system.Harry refuses.He is determined to find a cure and will stop at nothing to ensure that Draco can live a full, unhindered life. That is ... Until one fateful night tears his world apart.





	1. 1st January 1890

**_~1st January 1890~_ **

 

 

 

 

As the bell's chimed, echoing out over the barren, black hills, a shiver ran down Harry's spine. He clutched a glass of strong, red wine to his chest, his grip strong enough to shatter the glass in his palm. His bones ached with the cold and his jaw was tight as he stared out over the moorlands.

It had just gone midnight.

Heaving a weary sigh, he downed the last of his wine and set the glass on the narrow window sill. He was alone tonight, something he still hadn't grown accustomed to over the last two years. He almost couldn't wait to go back down to London in the next few weeks in order to collect his purchases from the apothecary. It was an arduous task but he couldn't risk his packages being tampered with, even if he entrusted his old professor Snape to aid him in his research. Ever since the newspaper's had reported on the 'JACK THE RIPPER MURDERS' -a nickname Sirius was very much enamoured with -Harry couldn't bring himself to trust any of the government officials with something as delicate as his subject matter. Especially not with someone on the hospital director's board like Slughorn. It was a chilling thought.

The only real ties he had in London, other than Severus, was his old class-mate Ronald and his wife Hermione. Ever since he had been best man at their wedding, Harry knew that they would be happy for many years to come. Thanks to his own research in the cleanliness of the hospital rooms and attending physicians, he was gladly able to assist in delivering their first child, a girl they had named Rosemarie, or 'Rosie' for short. Hermione had had no complications that most women had following the birth of her child, a huge relief to her husband and father.

Despite their reluctance to accept the facts, the hospital board had allowed Harry to over-haul their hygiene policy in the maternity ward. He didn't want to inflate his own ego, however he was almost entirely responsible for the morality rate of newborns in that area of London that year. Now, a year on, Harry often drifted between London and the Scottish Estate they'd settled at, for herbs, medicines and equipment as well as seeing his god-daughter. It was one of the few things that brightened up his otherwise exhausting days.

Drawing in a deep sigh, he reached into the collar of his shirt and toyed with the heavy silver bullet on a chain around his neck. Sometime's it would be a cool, soothing trinket that provided him with the knowledge that Draco trusted him with something as valuable as his own life. Other times, it was an oppressive weight that symbolised some form of God complex, and that left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth. Regardless of his mood, it had become a habit to toy with the chain whenever he was feeling anxious. Severus had often admonished him for being so infantile, however Harry brushed the sharp words aside.

Pressing his lips together, he turned away from the window, swiped his empty glass from the window sill, and left his bedchamber. Taking the stone steps two at a time, he made his way to the basement of the manor. The temperature grew cooler the lower down he went, however the wine cellar always managed to remain warm. It kept the wine good at least.

At the long table, he found his godfather sat at the table, eating a meal of cold cuts of meat and cheese with a glass of wine for himself. He looked up as Harry stepped through the door and brandished a knife with a slice of meat on the end. "Did you smell this Belgian sausage all the way from your rooms?" he asked with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Harry tried to smile but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He sighed as he drew a chair out and sank down into the worn wood. "No, I was just contemplating over a glass of wine."

"The moon is no longer full, Harry, I cannot understand your urge to speed through the days until the next one just to try another one of your experiments."

"I just need to know if it works!" Harry insisted as he loosened the cravat at his throat. Draco often insisted it suited him, but the brunette was struggling to adjust to the new sensation around his neck. It felt like a noose and it didn't sit right with him when he was already on edge. "The waiting only proves to make my mind wonder. I don't like letting that happen when we're still testing various formulas."

"We could still be resting these new ideas for years to come, Harry," Sirius stated solemnly. "I'm afraid there is no easy answer in curing something that people still refuse to accept as an ailment."

Harry nodded. He knew the older man was right but this was no longer theoretical science and medicine; there were proven test subjects. He felt as though even Snape was growing weary of the constant experiments. He knew that Draco and Remus were, but the older lycan seemed to be more accepting of trying new formulas to try and calm the effects of the full moon.

Draco was having a hard time of it.

From what Harry was able to understand, the blonde man often felt dark and destructive thoughts and it was always evident on his face. Harry got frustrated that there was nothing he could do to instantly help the blonde man. There were days -closer to a full moon -when Draco would snap at everyone and be very short-tempered. Everything set him on edge and he often secluded himself in another bedchamber so that he didn't have to interact with anyone. Remus often claimed he was struggling, at times, to accept the lycanthropy despite how understanding their small 'family' was.

"I don't want to disappoint them," he managed to say as his eyes bored into the table-top.

The clatter of the knife on wood set his teeth on edge. A heavy hand clasped his forearm, the sensation feeling odd on his skin.

"Harry you need to stop thinking like this," Sirius scowled at him. "You have done more for all three of us in the last year and a half, than we've been able to achieve in the last decade at best."

That did not help ease the pressure in Harry's skull.

The sooner he could get back to London, the easier it'll be to implement some new ingredients into his current formula, to try and stabilise it. However, he had an itch crawling around under his skin -an itch that gave him many a sleepless night -and wanted desperately to go up to Draco's bedchamber and talk things through with him. He had been hoping to steer clear from the more medieval torture techniques that Snape had implemented, however he found that his other options were growing less and less to try.

Rubbing his sore eyes, Harry stood up from the table and excused himself from the cellar.

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

Draco was reclined on a chaise with a book in his hand, the moonlight filtering in through the latticed windows and casting long shadows across the rug. He wasn't in the mood to interact with anyone. He had kept himself locked away in his bedchamber since midday and had scarcely touched the meal left for him at his door.

He didn't have much of an appetite after the full-moons.

It was an unsettling piece of information that he hadn't fully accepted.

It took at least three days before he could even look at anything remotely edible beyond bread and ale. The clouds had been grey all day, sucking the warmth and the easy-movement out of the world below. As a result, Draco had a tremulous headache throbbing behind his eyelids and had simply wanted to submerge himself in his books. He had requested to read everything about Lycanthropy that he could from both Harry and Snape. He felt as though the more he knew on the subject matter of his disease, the more he could open his mind to the new treatment trials, the new experiments and formulas that Harry came up with and try to contribute to the research in any feasible way.

He loathed to feel useless.

A knock came at his door.

For a brief moment he debated on whether or not to answer it, before relenting. One could only have so much of one's own company, after-all. Twisting the doorknob, Draco schooled his features into cool indifference as the torchlight from the corridor hit him. He screwed his eyes up and blinked a couple of times.

"I wasn't sure if you were awake or not," Harry said, peering up through his messy dark hair at the blonde man.

Draco often forgot how much he towered over the young doctor. Doctor. It was surreal to think that Harry had graduated and become Snape's second-in-command. So much had changed in the last two years -and not all of it was for the better. Finding his voice, the blonde man cleared his throat and adjusted his posture.

"I've just been doing some reading. I didn't really want to bother any of you at dinner."

"We all made our own arrangements," Harry admitted.

"I see."

Harry stared up at the blonde man, trying hard not to wince at the raw scar that ran down the length of his pale throat and disappeared into his loosened collar. It had puckered nicely and should fade over time, however that still didn't mean that he was pleased with the reason behind the scar. Draco had one been a flawless piece of fine china, now he was marred and cracked and breaking before Harry's eyes. It caused him endless heart palpitations and made him feel sickened.

Harry opened and closed his mouth, desperate to find words that could bridge the distance between them.

"Harry ..." Draco's eyelids drooped down, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

"I'm sorry. You don't want company right now," Harry stated. "I'll leave you be. You might want to get some more rest."

Draco was quick as lightning, grabbing a hold of Harry's sleeve and dragged him back towards the door. Harry stiffened but didn't pull away. The sudden warmth emanating from the tall aristocrat made him shiver. "I would appreciate your company tonight, if you'd be willing?"

Harry's throat ran dry. "I would like that," he finally breathed, allowing Draco to lead him fully into the chamber and push the door shut in its frame.

Over at an ornate wooden table beside the hearth, Draco escorted Harry over to sit in one of the lavish armchairs and sank deep into the velvet cushions within. Harry was a little more rigid in his descent, however by the end of their first glass of wine together his muscles had started to finally relax. The warmth rushed through his veins and softened the edges of his mind. "Thank you for letting me in," he managed to murmur. The weight of countless other nights where the door hadn't opened at all, still haunted his mind.

"I've trying to catch up on the reading material Severus sent up," Draco admitted, pouring himself another glass of wine. "It's taken my some time to get used to the writing style."

"It does get quite tiresome," Harry agreed.

The atmosphere in the chamber was stifling.

Draco stared down into the bottom of his glass. The red wine glistened like fresh blood, the sweet, acrid flavour still burning on his tongue. "I didn't intend to become a recluse," he said. "I just wanted to gain more knowledge about this -this -deformity of mine." He practically spat the word. "I just wish I could aid you better rather simply be a slab of meat you can prod and poke with your electrodes."

Harry's eyes went wide with distress. "Draco that was never the intention to make you feel that way, you have to know that."

Draco inclined his head but remained silent.

Harry swallowed thickly. "I ... You have to know that everything I have done these last two years had been in aid of you becoming human again."

"Deep down I know that," Draco sighed. "However, the more this happens, the more I worry nothing will come of all this experimenting. We could be wasting both our lives in trying to mend something forever deemed to be broken."

"Don't say such things!" Harry hissed, his nails biting into the upholstery. Stitches broke as he leaned forward, the firelight catching on his spectacles. "You have to believe that we will find a formula that works. You have to believe that, Draco."

"I'm not sure that I can, Harry."

The silence that followed those words was harrowing. Harry felt acid burn at the back of his throat. It gave the wine a bloody taste. He shuddered and set his glass on the table with a little too much force. His breathing was harsh to his own ears. He suddenly had the urge to boil some water for a deep bath submerge himself and not come back up for air. It was a thought that often came to mind in the darkest hours of the night.

"Has your own research provided anything more to help us understand where we've been going wrong?" Draco's voice broke through the silence, swiftly diverting the subject from Harry's own, darkening thoughts.

"No," he replied tightly. "Not as far as I've seen." He glanced up, the firelight making Draco look ethereal in the darkness. "That doesn't mean the answer isn't out there. We just need to look in new places."

Draco furrowed his brows. "I don't know what it can keep going on, Harry."

"You can't make me give up now," Harry groused. "I've done so much good down in London and I want to implement some of that up here. I want everyone to be as healthy and happy as possible. That includes you."

"There's a reason we have to remain secluded in the back-end of Scotland, Harry. Let's not forget that."

"How could I?" he ground out through gritted teeth. "All you do is remind me whenever we have a moment to talk."

"It needs to be said."

"No. It doesn't."

Harry was done talking. It was as he said; whenever they had a spare moment, he was forced to face the cold, hard truth that he was the one responsible for all the events that had transpired. If it hadn't been for him, Draco could still be living in the lavish townhouse in London with infrequent contact with his own godfather, Professor Snape. Feeling mentally drained, Harry forced himself up out of the armchair and made his way towards the door. Draco didn't try to argue or to stop him, and that left the brunette feeling even more hollow than before.

Perhaps he was just too tired and needed to sleep?

"Get some sleep, Draco," he said over his shoulder, barely looking at the blonde man as he pulled the door open and left. There was no response as he dragged the door closed behind him.

Back in his own bedchamber, Harry stared up at the diagrams he'd sketched across a series of black-boards that he'd had mounted on one wall of his room. He stood, half-dressed, with numerous candles dotting all over his surfaces to help illuminate his notes. It was getting harder and harder to find new alternatives and recipes for the potions he was brewing. Aconite needed to remain a prime ingredient, there was no doubt about that. However, the other herbs in his 'to use' list were growing shorter and shorter. He only had a few left and it was nauseating to think that, if he got to the end without any reasonable results to work from, then it would all be for nought.

He'd already received a telegram that morning that his Dittany should have arrived at the apothecary. That was one of the few remaining herbs to try, and it was so low down on his list, that it made his stomach coil. He had notebooks filled with older recipes that had failed, though he couldn't single out what had failed. He lost so many nights of sleep that caused him to lose weight -maybe that was one of the reasons that Draco couldn't look at him now. Neither of them were the same person as they'd been two years prior, and that was -terrifying.

There were moments where Harry found himself wishing to be a coldhearted man like Snape. At least then he'd be able to look beyond the relationship, beyond the emotions and memories and have the undisputed clarity of mind to drive sharpened stake's into someone's extremities. Memories of that night were still nightmarish. The echo of Draco's inhuman screamed still caught him in the quietest moments, making him sit bolt upright and force himself out of bed to light as many candles as his quaking hands could. The candlelight chased some of the nightmares away, but not all of them.

They didn't reassure Harry that he was doing something right.

Maybe Snape had had the right idea from the beginning.

' _No, I cannot think like that!_ ' he berated himself, digging his nails into his cheekbone. ' _If I truly believe that then I am no better than a murder! That will not show me the way forward, towards a cure_.'

The real question had to be said; did he truly want to suffer through finding a cure? Or was he more content to just end Draco's evident suffering and start a new life back in London? It was no secret that the last two years had aged him so much so that -on the rare occasion he'd gone to visit his parents down in Yorkshire -his mother had fretted over his appearance. There was no way to argue with the matter at hand; he was running himself thin and was close to exhausting his few remaining options. What was to be done after the list was depleted and he had gone back to where he'd started? The honest answer was that he didn't know.

He just wanted it to end.


	2. 5th January 1890

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual themes present in this chapter.

_**~5th January 1890~** _

 

 

 

It had been a tense few days.

Harry was more than content to spend those days secluded away in his own chambers, staring up at the blackboards to will them to reveal an answer to him. There was only so much he could do on his own. Perhaps he could consult Snape on his return to London next week? The very thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but it was the only thing he could do to focus his attentions on. Otherwise, he would end up sketching over parchments and scraps of paper just on the off-chance that he was struck by a sudden, amazing thought. They never seemed to materialise.

Heaving a sigh, Harry got up from his armchair and stoked the dying fire in the grate. The cold air that circulated through the manor was enough to make his bones ache. It was almost like it froze the blood in his veins and made him more lethargic in his general behaviour. From the large, four-poster bed, Draco stirred amongst the sheets but didn't wake up. The previous evening the blonde man had knocked at Harry's door, no doubt noting the candlelight that flickered under the door, and hadn't said a word when the younger man had answered the door. He'd simply taken Harry's face in his hands and pressing their mouths together.

It had been strange, almost brand new yet distantly familiar. All Harry could think was that it had been such a long time. He'd been washed away on a tidal wave of passion and the desire to be touched again. They went to bed together, their bodies bathed in the firelight. Harry had started awake before dawn the following morning feeling shocked and frigid. As he moved to light the fires, his muscles were as stiff as stone and his brain was foggy. Crouched on the hearth, the cold stone freezing his toes, Harry struck numerous matches and waited until the tinder caught alight before moving back to the bed.

He didn't sleep though.

Instead he lie on his side, head propped up in his hand as he watched Draco sleep beside him. The blonde man was still classically handsome with his fine-cut cheekbones, silky hair and strong, lean muscles. However, the last two years had added a raw, harder edge to the man -and the evidence was latticed over his back thanks to numerous fights in his lycan form, as well as the needle-marks from numerous experiments and trials. Harry traced the marks on Draco's back, guilt burning deep in his belly at the puckered flesh. He wanted to press his lips to those wounds and suck the rage, poison and guilt out of the older man. It was often a wonder that the blonde was able to walk properly after a full-moon episode; his body was often flooded with drugs and new remedies that the human body simply wasn't conditioned for.  
Harry often wondered if he was doing more damage than good.

He tried to reason with himself that it was the lycan-virus within Draco that was helping him survive the toxins pumped into his body every month -however it was of little comfort.

Now, however, with the feeble light poking in through the curtains, Harry was left exhausted as he gazed at the beautiful, broken man sprawled out before him. It was vulnerable moments like this that Harry felt as though he could steal away into the night, extract himself from Draco's life and wish him all the best for his coming days.  
' _I won't do that_ ,' his conscience snapped distastefully. ' _I will not abandon this man when he needs me the most_.'

Draco stirred under the sheets.

Harry stilled, his breath freezing in his lungs.

"Harry?" Draco shifted again, turning onto his back so that he could peer up at Harry. His eyelids were barely open, his blonde hair tousled and his lips dehydrated. "Mmm what're you doing awake? It's still dark outside."

Harry bit down on his lip, his mind humming with the thoughts that he couldn't voice out-loud. "I ... Couldn't sleep."

On instinct, Draco reached out to touch the younger man and then froze in mid-air. The bed had never seemed as large as it did in that moment. Swallowing thickly, he fought to keep his eyes open. "Can I ... Will you let me hold you?"

Harry hesitated. He hadn't meant to, it was just his body's response to most things Draco asked of him recently. These moments where they held each other, made love, and bore their souls were as rare as a blue moon and there was no telling when the next snatched moment would come about. It terrified Harry to be so vulnerable. He needed control. His romantic feelings for Draco did nothing but fill his head with chaotic nonsense that hampered his thinking towards a cure.

That was his excuse for it at least.

"Harry?"

"Yes," fell from his lips before he could think. "Y-yes I'll let you."

With a sleepy confidence, Draco took hold of Harry's wrist and gently pulled him to lie down on the mattress. Everything dipped under their combined weight as the blankets were shifted over to cover Harry's chilled legs. "Your feet are like ice," Draco murmured against the back of his neck as he enveloped the younger man into his arms.

Harry let it all happen, feeling as though he were a separate entity from the living man in the bed. He tried to regulate his breathing, willing his muscles to relax. He focused on the fine hairs and scars over Draco's arms, the weight of his body pressing against his back, the warm breath on the nape of his neck. He gingerly laced their fingers together, the action almost alien to him now, and let out a long, low sigh.

He could do this.

He could fall asleep.

He repeated that mantra in his head until the sun came up.

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

The attic was his laboratory.

It was a strange thought in itself, considering the sheer size of the manor they lived in. According to Draco it was still rather on the small side, however Harry had no frame of reference. The largest building he had been in to date, was St. Bartholomew's hospital in London where he'd studied. There were large beams that lined the ceiling. The atmosphere was generally dank and gloomy, except for the large window on the North and South walls. On a clear night, the moonlight would shine in and illuminate all the instruments and glass bottles that cluttered the shelves.

This was the second most likely place to find Harry.

Remus knocked on the door, startling Harry to whip around to face him. His green eyes were wild and a little sunken from lack of sleep. His hair was its usual mess of black waves but his skin had a sallow look to it. Remus pressed his lips together and slid the door closed behind him. Under the arched window there was the long, marble slab of a table that acted as Harry's gurney. Across the large desk and counters there were jars opened around notebooks that had Harry's untidy, erratic scrawl in them.

"We missed you at dinner last night," Remus stated, linking his hands behind his back and leaning forward on his heels.

Harry looked the man up and down before slowly returning to his glass-paned cabinet of various herbs. The rush of scent was thick and clung to the back of his throat. "I lost track of time," Harry intoned by way of apology.

"Draco was disappointed that you didn't turn up," Remus continued, idly walking around the large machines and desks. "Considering how well you two had been getting along recently, we had rather hoped you'd continue the trajectory."

"Sorry to disappoint," Harry stated, finally turning to face the older man. It always took him by surprise just how much being a lycan had aged Remus. The man was scarcely in his forties and his hair already had bold streaks of grey running through it, his skin was marred with scars and blemishes and he always looked worn, his skin drawn and his eyes red-rimmed from nightmares.

 _Draco's future_.

A tightness clenched in Harry's gut. "I am at the very end of my list of herbs to try," he declared, almost arrogantly. His hands trembled as he leaned forward on the marble slab, his knuckles flashing white. "I feel like I'm missing something, yet I don't know what it is."

"Did you look into the precious metals I told you to try?" Remus asked, his amber eyes skimming over the notebooks on some of the shelves.  
Inhuman eyes.

Harry glowered down at the intricate lines of the marble but didn't reply.

"I think you should give it a try," Remus went on as though Harry's silence was a mute agreement. "It couldn't hurt your research, surely?"

"Unlike my godfather or Draco, I don't have the luxury of pissing away silver and gold like it's barley."

"Although if they do prove to be a useful ingredient, then you'd have to admit that you wasted a lot more time than you needed to."

This time Harry shot the man a lethal look.

Remus gave a tight-lipped smile. "Just making an observation, Harry. This is taking it's toll on you, we can all see it."

Harry straightened up and narrowed his eyes behind his spectacles. "I'm aware of the pressure this must be putting on you," he said in a strained voice. "However, I shan't give this a rest until I exhaust my list. As soon as I make some progress on the development of this cure, then and only then will I relax."

Remus let out a soft sigh. "I can only hope you understand exactly what you're doing, Harry," he said in a tired tone. "There will be no other gain from this other than seeing Draco and I live long and better lives as humans."

A lump caught in the brunette's throat. "Isn't that enough of a reward, Remus?"

They stared at one another across the marble slab. There was a chill in the air. Harry was the first to look away. There was always something unholy and distinctly non-human in Remus' amber eyes. "Can we expect you for breakfast?" the older man asked wearily, already knowing that Harry would spend the entirety of the night cooped up in the attic, working until his fingers were clumsy and his brain was frazzled. Yet, no one would be able to persuade him to put some hours aside to sleep.

"I shouldn't say so."

"I'll let the other two know."

Harry didn't reply.

He didn't look up until he heard the door to the staircase close behind the older man. A part of Harry felt immeasurable guilt at being so dismissive of his friends; he knew they only wanted the best for him. That didn't mean he couldn't do everything in his physical power to try and help them, either. 'I can't think on that now,' he chastised himself, shaking his head and forcing renewed energy into his limbs. ' _The sooner I start on preparing the next formula, the quicker everything will be when I come back from London_.' Casting one last, longing glance at the closed door, Harry cleared his mind as Snape had taught him, and opened his current notebook, his eyes greedily skimming the untidy scrawl for the ingredients he'd need.

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

The piano music rose up throughout the chambers, trilling up the staircases and hanging in the air. The cold night air pressed against the window panes, whispering in through the gap in the windows, rustling the damask curtains against the flagstone floor. Seated at the piano a tall, blonde man let his fingers move with the elegant fluidity that only money could buy. The tune was both lively and melancholy -a bittersweet blend that only Draco seemed able to manage these days. Whenever he played it always spiralled into something tough to swallow. His emotions bled through -it had been such a long time since he'd felt genuine happiness. He pressed on the brass pedal automatically, no sheet music on the stand. He was so enraptured by the music he was producing that he barely noticed the pair of eyes watching him from the doorway.

When the piece was finished, Draco let his fingers slip from the keys and into his lap.

Applause made him jolt in his stool.

Sirius smiled in appreciation as he wondered over from the doorway, his cane clicking softly. "I had no idea you were so well-versed in being a pianist."

Draco swallowed and attempted a small smile, "Thank you. Mother insisted a man needed some refined skills about him as well as more masculine ones father enforced."  
Sirius came to stand beside the piano, resting his hand on the glossy, well-worn wood. "My own mother used to force me to do such lessons. I never quite took to the piano myself. Violin was a better suit for me, much to her despair."

"I find the violin rather lovely."

"As do I," Sirius let out a weary sigh. "I haven't had much time to play in recent years. Taking care of Remus had become somewhat of a priority."

"Do you ever tire of it?" Draco asked, finding he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer. His palms grew clammy in his lap. He sometimes wondered whether Harry would tire too easily and retreat back to London and not return.

"There are days where it is taxing," Sirius admitted, somewhat reluctantly. "However, I feel as though Remus is the one who grows to resent me."

Draco looked up at the curly-haired man in surprise. "Remus could never resent you. It just isn't in his nature. He's too ... forgiving for that."

"One day that forgiveness will wear thin and I have a feeling my time in that regard is running out."

Draco furrowed his brow. He had a very similar feeling in regards to Harry. The man was too dedicated to his quest to find a cure. In his darkest moments, Draco foresaw himself living with this condition for the rest of his life. However, there was also the horrifying knowledge that Harry would push himself to the bring of madness just to try and help Draco and, by extension, Remus. That did not bode well for any of them.

"Do you think Harry will have any success with the remaining ingredients?" Draco asked.

Sirius heaved a sigh, his shoulders sagging deeply. "I wish I could say 'yes'. I truly do. However, I also know he's been working at it for almost two years and has gotten no closer than when we first moved up here."

"He has gotten closer," Draco snapped, his temper flaring.

Sirius frowned.

"He _has_ ," he repeated. "Despite what you think, negative results are still results. It simply means that we are getting rid of what does not work and hopefully leaving what does, waiting to be found." He drew in a deep calming breath before shooting Sirius a look. "You should know that. After all, didn't you study in the medical profession with Severus?"

"You're right," Sirius inclined his head. He shifted his weight onto his foot and flexed his shoulders under his brocade jacket. "I'm retiring for the night. You should try and get some sleep too."

Draco nodded his head.

He kept his gaze toward the dying fire in the grate and strained his ears, mentally following Sirius' path throughout the manor's hallways until even his own heightened hearing couldn't aid him any longer. He sighed, his tense muscles unravelling. His eyes ran over the white and black keys, his fingers both itching to run over them but also too tired to even twitch. Maybe he should retire for the night as well? He often wondered how Remus managed to keep going, day after day, whilst Draco was still exhausted almost a week after a full moon? It meant at least two weeks every month, he was afflicted greatly, unable to perform the simplest tasks lest he become aggressive or lethargic just from raising a spoon.

 _'I think it's time to get some sleep_ ,' his mind stated. That settled it.

 

 

Making his way up to his bedchamber, Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. There was a definite chill in the air that coiled his stomach like a snake. A tremor ran down his spine. Every now and then an urge rose through him like a hot bubble, and he had to fight to push it back down. It was as though the wolf inside him wanted to rear its head, to be let out and play. He hadn't ever allowed it, hadn't wanted to deal with the repercussions it could cause.

It was tempting, though.

A narrow, arched window cast sharp pale lines of light cutting through the gloom of the staircase. It caught Draco off-guard, being able to stand under the moonlight and not feel the burning prickle overwhelm and cripple him onto all-fours. That was all it took for the blonde man to tear his way up the rest of the stone steps to his own bedchamber.  
Once inside, with the door shut firmly behind him, he scurried over to the large windows and threw the heavy drapes open.

Bright silver-white moonlight poured into the room, bathing the flagstone floor in its milky glow. A cold shiver ran through Draco's veins, tickling at the wolf inside him, but it didn't rear it's head. It was oddly comforting and exciting all at the same time. His skin flushed hot, itching under the fabric.

He quickly tore the clothes from his body.

With each layer that fell to the floor, he felt like he could breathe better. Untying the lacing of his undershirt, he ripped it over his head and stood on the cool floor in all his naked glory. The moonlight caressed him almost as well as any hands ever could. It licked at his ears and smoothed over his thighs. He felt desire burn in his belly. His jaw drooped open in a euphoric silent moan, his eyelids fluttering shut as he stepped further into the light. He must have moaned -it felt too good not to.

His member twitched between his legs.

Letting his hands roam of their own free will, Draco stroked his body wherever he could reach, over and over, relentlessly pleasuring the very skin on his bones until it coaxed orgasmic moans from his mouth. Over and over he touched, clawing his long fingers through his hair, giving gentle tugs and feeling the pleasure ripple and burn in his gut until -

"Ugggnh!"

His body convulsed as he spilled his seed of the floor, almost collapsing down on his window-seat before he caught himself. As the last of his orgasm strummed through him, Draco watched beads of sweat drip off his forehead. His erection softened and drooped back between his legs, a cool breeze rushing over his flustered skin and making him shiver.

When the feeling came back into his muscles, Draco pushed himself upright and padded over to the fire to build it up again. Crouched naked on the hearthrug, watching the tinder catch alight, Draco racked through his brain desperate to find the disgust and frustration that his primitive urges were being taken out of his control as it just had.

He found nothing.

Maybe having a wolf inside him wasn't an entirely terrible ordeal after-all. Maybe he'd have to show Harry just how amazing the moonlight could feel. Perhaps then he would understand the other side of it. 


	3. 15th January 1890

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Scenes of a sexual nature!

**~ 15th January 1890 ~**

 

 

 

_Sweat and lavender ..._

_Sweet and wrong -poison! Evil!_

_Cold stones -paws click and clack on the floors ..._

_Wind on the teeth -blood in the nose ..._

_Hot! Moonlight is hot! Roaring! So loud in the ears!_

_Bones vibrating -bending -moving! Snap, snap, snap! They break!_

 

 

 

**~0~**

 

 

 

 

Harry jolted awake.

The train car was empty except for himself. His forgotten meal sat in front of him and his stomach groaned, though he doubted it was for the measly plate before him. Rubbing a rough hand down his face, he tried to wake himself up. The train was bitterly cold, the frosty glass bit through his over-coat as he leaned against it. It rattled in its pane as the train came through a junction.

He sighed and shifted, flexing his sore shoulders and tried to sit up a little higher. His briefcase with all his notebooks inside was stationed securely in the metal grille rack over his head. He was travelling down to London to spend another couple of weeks gathering as many of his limited herbs and ingredients remaining on his list. A sinking sensation weighed in his chest. He was often plagued with the question of 'what if?' and it was daunting to think that this may be his second to last -or even his last -scavenger hunt down to London. If he ran through his list and had nothing concrete to build from -he couldn't even fathom the soul-crushing humiliation and disappointment he would feel.

Then there was Draco to consider.

The blonde man was so independent and somehow, despite everything, found it within himself to see all the good that Harry was doing as opposed to all his short-comings and temper tantrums. Not to mention his notorious habit of slipping out of the older man's chamber in the dead of night to retreat to his own chamber -seeking sanctuary from the deeply unsettling thoughts.

The train jostled along the tracks.

The sky had darkened to pitch-black outside the windows. The sky was heavy with clouds, masking the twinkling stars and the moon from view. For some reason, this comforted him. For the last two years, the moon had been nothing but a bad omen for him and his kin.

His sore eyes stung and he nearly jabbed his eyeball out when the train screeched to a halt.

"I cannot wait to get off this goddamn train," he groused bitterly, readjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

 

 

 

Pulling into London two hours later, Harry was relieved to get off the rocking train and onto the flat platform. His cases were brought to him and he heaved them up off the floor and made his way towards the exit, his ticket crumpled awkwardly between his fingers. He managed to navigate through the barriers, hands his ticket to the ticket officer and then awkwardly shifted through the exit and onto the pavement outside.

London hadn't changed -it never did.

It still smelled rancid; the salty, sewage of the Thames still hanging like a heavy cloud in the air mingling with the stench of spilled beer and sweat. It clung to the back of Harry's throat as he stood on the pavement, craning his neck left and right to see if a free carriage was nearby to take him back to Draco's old townhouse. Finally, he managed to secure a cab, the driver even stepping down to haul his cases on top, his breathing rising in great plumes between them.

A tremor ran down Harry's spine.

His mind was too cold to understand anything other than getting from point A to point B, and hope that there was a roaring fire to warm himself beside upon his arrival. Climbing up into the carriage, Harry slammed the door shut a little too hard and sat stiffly against the worn cushions. His head was singing with a dull pain, having too little sleep was clearly taking its toll. A small part of him as desperate to get through the list just so that he could put it to rest and get some proper sleep for the first time in over a year.

' _Coward!_ ' his mind sneered. ' _Such a sleazy, evil coward!_ '

Harry ground his teeth together, frowning heavily. He was doubting so much lately and he knew it was effecting his work. He hated that he was so heavily influenced by his feelings and emotions, but there was no way to shut it off entirely from his mind. Not like Snape did.

The horse's hooves slowed.

The carriage pulled to a stop.

Was he here already?

Glancing out of the small window, Harry peered out onto the dark street. The flagstones and street-lamps all looked the same. Yes, he was back. Climbing out, he thanked the driver and paid him an extra few shillings for his help. The man tipped his hat with a tired smile, clicked his tongue and steered his horse away from the pavement and down along the road. Harry watched the top of his hat disappear from view around the corner before turning to face the house.

There were no lights on behind the heavy curtains. Perhaps Severus was in one of the back rooms? That was, if he wasn't teaching up at the hospital. Sighing, Harry used all his remaining energy to drag his two cases up the stone steps and knocked the large, brass knocker.

The door eventually swung open to reveal Anderson, the man-servant.

He inclined his head to Harry. If he was surprised by his impromptu, late arrival, then he didn't show it. Harry was grateful for that as he allowed his cases to be extracted from his grip and stepped into the cool hallway.

"Good trip, sir?" Anderson's voice sounded like a thunderclap in the cavernous entrance-hall.

Harry blinked slowly, his brain trying to process the words. "Yes, I suppose it was. As pleasant as can be expected."

Anderson offered a wry smile. "Mr. Snape is in the back library, sir. He's expecting you. I'll take your luggage up to your room."

"Oh, that's not necessary I can do it."

Anderson shook his head, "I'm afraid Mr. Snape insisted, sir. You are to retire to the back library where a small meal has been kept warm for you. You have had a long day, sir, you are entitled to a little leisure on your first night."

Harry didn't have the energy to argue. His shoulders slumped a little as he offered a tired smile. "I appreciate the concern, Anderson. Along with the food; I barely ate on the train and I daresay it would have paled to your cooking regardless."

Anderson gave an understanding smile.

Harry returned it as much as his muscles would allow, before turning away and retreating down the hall. His shoes clacked gently on the tiled floor. The cool darkness became almost pitch before the thin crack of light from the library doorway came into view. Harry pushed the door open. It creaked softly, the sound drowned out by the crackling of the fire in the grate beyond. There were two armchairs turned to face the hearth, one had a narrow table pulled up to it with a silver domed plate stationed beside a tall glass. Despite his fatigue, Harry's body responded to the soft aroma of food.

"Don't loiter in the door, Potter," Snape's cool voice made Harry jump. He's almost missed the black-haired man sitting so far back in the armchair that he blended in with the deep shadows.

"Forgive me, sir," Harry said out of habit. "It has been an arduous journey."

"Then come by the fire and stop letting the cold air in."

Harry hurried to close the door. The faint chill he felt around his ankles subsided and he managed to get himself to the vacant armchair and settled down into the cushions. It was still too stiff-backed for his liking, as it always was, however compared to the roughness of the train cart -he wasn't about to complain.

"Make sure you eat the stew," Snape stated, flipping the page of the journal in his hands. "Anderson worked hard to make sure it was ready for tonight."

"I'll be sure to thank him."

Harry took the cover off his meal and was overwhelmed with gratitude. He tucked the napkin into his collar and drew the table closer to his seat so he could eat without spilling anything on the hearthrug. He poured himself a glass of wine and was content with the lack of conversation, only the crackling of the fire sought to disturb the otherwise silent room.

Anderson came about half an hour later, by which point Harry had finished eating. The tray was taken away from him but the bottle of wine and the glass was left behind. Severus had his own glass on a table beside him, the liquid glistening like blood. He had yet to drink any. Harry stretched as far as he could towards the fire, getting himself as warm as possible. a much anticipated relief.

"Your journey was uneventful I presume?" Severus asked.

"As much as it can be."

"How are the others?"

Harry cast a glance at the older man. It was always off-putting whenever Severus asked about his other little family up in Scotland. He felt his relaxing shoulders tense up instantly. His tongue felt swollen, as though he couldn't work it enough to form coherent words. "They're coping," he finally managed. "It's been a hard winter."

"From what I understand, judging from our correspondence, is that you are nearing the end of your list."

It wasn't a question.

"I have five more ingredients I can try. Two of which I shall be taking back with me in the next few weeks."

"Have you made arrangements to obtain them?" Severus asked.

"I have."

"Have you taken the precautions needed for some of these ingredients?"

"Yes, sir."

Severus took a long moment to finish whatever sentence he'd been reading before placing a bookmark between the pages and closing the book. He stared at Harry with intense black eyes. "You do realise that it isn't just the ingredients that are prudent to creating a cure but it's also the measurements, the method's and the timing of it all."

"I'm aware," Harry tensed his jaw, unwilling to get into a debate at such a late hour.

"And how have you tried to incorporate these things into your research?"

"I've tried varying times and methods and think I have found a stable rhythm. However, it seems to be the ingredients that are causing me some issues. Once I get a stable foundation and know the ingredients to use, then I can finalise the method and hopefully obtain a cure, or at least something that hampers their condition so that they're not a danger to others."

"How realistic do you think that would be?"

"I'd like to think that it's probable."

"How realistic, Harry?"

Ah, his first name. It was rarely a light-hearted situation when the Professor used his given name. A heavy weight sank into his chest.

"I'll know more once I try out these next few ingredients."

Snape narrowed his eyes.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I'm not quite sure you're grounded enough for this sort of venture."

Harry's head snapped up. "Why not?"

"That," Snape said. "Your irritability. Your short temper and your red eyes. You've not been sleeping have you?"

"It's been a difficult time."

"For two years?"

"Yes."

"I can only assume you've not been partaking in meals, either, considering the brutality you showed that stew and bread earlier."

Harry clenched his jaw and opted not to answer.

His silence was enough.

"Go to bed."

Harry blinked at the abrupt demand. "E-excuse me?"

"I said 'go to bed'," Severus stated darkly. His long, waxy fingers curled over the low arms of the chair, looking like white talons in the firelight. "I don't wish to see your face until mid-morning, do you understand me? And I shall know if you've not been sleeping, Potter. Do not test me on these matters."

"I -I am not a child, Severus!"

In one swift motion, Severus was leaning over him, his nails digging deep into the velveteen cushions. His breath was flat and hot on Harry's face. "When you treat such life-altering decisions like they're paperboats floating in a quaggy then you tell me who is being the child?"

Harry glared up at those dark sunken eyes. They gleamed but did not waver. They were as hard a stone. Snape was as unrelenting and unforgiving as he had always been. Harry had no idea why he kept hoping one time it would be different. "Very well," he eventually bit out, squaring his shoulders. "Then I shall retire."

Snape narrowed his eyes and didn't move for a moment. Then he unleashed his grip on the armchair and slowly recoiled, his straightening frame barring the warmth and light from the fire. He loomed there, like a great, black bat and remained motionless until Harry slithered out from the armchair. He made a show of straightening himself up and drawing himself up to his full height, though it still put him at least a foot shorter than his former professor. "I shall see you tomorrow morning," he said coldly.

Snape said nothing.

Harry turned on his heel and marched out of the library, taking care to slam the door behind him.

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

For the first five days of returning to London, Severus was as domineering and sharp as any politician. He often peered into Harry's room to check that the brat was asleep and first thing in the morning, before Harry had even gotten to eat his breakfast, Severus would be checking his blood pressure, his pupils and making sure that his chest sounded normal. Harry felt himself growing more irate by the other man's intrusion. He desperately wanted to say something, but he knew that Severus would not listen to his plea's for solitude. He had also been banned from leaving the house for anything, except for going for short walks around the small paved courtyard behind the house.

Anderson was always in attendance on this occasions.

It was only on the fifth day that Snape deemed him fit enough to continue his preempted plans of going to the apothecary and various other herbalists to see if he could acquire any other plants needed. It was a much needed relief when he could get about his morning routine without being disturbed. He'd already lost out on enough time in getting all the items he needed. He was going to have words with Severus when he got home.

 

 

By midday he was exiting one of his apothecary contacts with a supply of dittany in his inner coat pocket, wrapping in unassuming brown paper. The last thing he needed was for people to chatter behind closed doors about the oddities he was ordering in. He was meeting another one of his contacts at a local tea-shop across the river. That would be his moonseed. Hopefully that would be a short trip and then he could get back to the townhouse before it got too late in the day. He'd rather not get back after Severus and deal with the older man's questioning.

Even his own father hadn't been so over-bearing when growing-up.

Tugging his coat collar higher around his face, Harry set off for the nearest bridge that would take him to his next meeting point.

The tea-shop was small, quaint, with a low ceiling and old, frilled lampshades covering the lamps that hung from the wooden beams. The windows were small, a little dusty and had netted curtains providing a sense of privacy from the streets outside. It felt cosy. At a small table in the far corner on padded seats, sat a middle-aged woman with dull red hair coiffed underneath a felt hat. Her eyes were deep-set and piercing blue, her unassuming attired promoted only one fact; she was not a London woman and had no desire to be one. Harry saw her immediately and wove his way around the tightly spaced tables towards her booth.

"Miss Pendle I presume?" he asked, keeping his voice reasonably low.

She tilted her head up a little and smiled thinly. "You assume correct, Mr. Potter. Do take a seat."

Her accent caught Harry off-guard. He couldn't place it but it was decidedly too proper for the West End of London, as far as he was concerned. He pulled out a seat and settled down. On the table there was already a cup and saucer waiting for him. The teapot was still hot. She could not have been there long.

He poured himself a cup of tea; black, two sugars.

Her blue eyes watched him. She didn't seem to blink a lot.

It was unnerving.

"I take it your journey here was not too troublesome?" Harry asked, trying to keep his tone light. "Considering you said you'd be travelling a long way for this delivery. I do appreciate any unrest it may have caused."

Miss. Pendle gave another thin smile. She raised the cup to her lips and took a drink. "I'm sure the price we negotiated will cover any undue unrest, nicely."

Harry returned the thin smile. Considering how much he'd had to retrieve for these payments to various vendors for their discretion, he'd certainly hope that Miss. Pendle liked this one-time payment and didn't try to haggle for more. "I'm sure it will," he said.

From his pocket he withdrew a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. A string was tied around it. He slid it over the table with a more forced smile. To any on-looker, he was giving her a much awaited parcel or present, not money. She tilted her head with a cool smiled, pulled the string until it unravelled. Discreetly she eyed the contents, her smile broadening slightly. "Thank you," she finally said. From a pocket of her coat, she with drew a firm squared box wrapped in plain paper that crinkled when Harry accepted it. "I hope everything is to your satisfaction."

Harry pried the paper aside and lifted the lid of the box. Inside were several stacked glass vials of small, milky-brown seeds. He nodded his approval and quickly pocketed the box and busied his hands my drinking his tea.

She raised her teacup and daintily drank the remnants before setting it down with a sharp 'clink'. "I think I shall say my goodbye's now," she adjusted her felt hat and straightened the top of her coat. "Pleasure meeting you Mister Potter. Let's not meet again too soon." She gave another strained smile, her face like china, before the flounced out of the tea-room.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Harry relaxed.

He was now in possession of his moonseed's and dittany.

He decided to take his time and enjoy the warmth of the tea-shop. He had a blazing fire beside him and it warmed his chilled muscles. He drank the remaining tea in the pot and felt his mind get a sharp kick of energy. No doubt Severus would comment about that but Harry didn't care in that moment. Once the tea was finished, he flexed his muscles and fingers as well as neck and took a few moments just to be, closing his eyes and ears to the chattering patrons around him on either side and just focused on his breathing.

He managed to make it back to the townhouse by 3PM.

 

 

 

Once in his rooms he portioned and stored his newest ingredients and opened his journals across the desks and flicked through the pages, making notes on the methods of what to do and how best to brew the potion. He needed to experiment with the times of day and exposure to direct light. That was one of the things he'd noticed in recent trials. The ones that were exposed to moonlight seemed to have the higher success rates -if that's what he could call them.

_Moonlight._

The very thought sent a sickening shiver running through him.

It caused his skull to throb so intensely that he wanted to to skulk away from the daylight and press himself down onto the cool covers and just closed his eyes -just for a few moments. ' _Maybe I should_ ,' he thought. ' _Severus won't be back until later tonight. He couldn't object, surely, to me getting some extra hours of sleep?_ '

His gut twisted as he tugged the drapes shut.

The room was musty and the cold from outside had done nothing to help alleviate the chill that clung to the bedclothes. In that moment, however, Harry didn't have the heart to care. He pulled aside the top cover, kicked his shoes off onto the floor and slumped face-down into the pillows. They were cold and starchy against his skin. It made his aches and pains feel that much worse, despite how dull they'd been earlier that morning. His eyelids grew heavy and soon he was swept away in a cold, troubled sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

_The moon was fat and frosty in the stretch of black sky bowing overhead. It frozen the air in his lungs and flooded his senses with the tang of blood. His skin prickled with the cold, his erect member twitching and throbbing. His muscles were tight and tense as he waded clumsily through a wooded area, the trees disorientating him._

_Where were his glasses?_

_He stumbled, the roots and grass cutting through his skin like knives. What was he doing here? Where was he?_

_A growl emitted through the darkness._

_He spun around, his body slick with a heavy coat of musty sweat. It could smell him. He could smell something dank and heady in the air._

_His erection twitched._

_Backing up, a bristly mass of meat smacked into his back. He reached behind him with his hand, palming the thick, matted fur and relishing in the roughness of it. Tilting his head up he caught the sight of barred fangs, blood smeared along the jaw and glowing eyes._

_Thick fingers wrapped around his neck and threw him to the ground. His body slammed into the cold, hard earth. Shock-waves of pain bolted through him. He cried but no sound reached his ears. The beast growled loud and lunged forward on all-fours, shielding him from the moonlight._

_His mind raced as black nails raked down his thighs, forcing them apart and pinning them down. He panicked. Tried to struggle. Something hard and heavy smacked his head back into the dirt. He felt blood rush up his mouth, spurting through his teeth._

_A long wet tongue lapped it up._

_He froze._

_He couldn't breathe._

_The hot, wetness of the wide tongue lapped forcefully down along his splayed thighs and over his swollen erection, curling around his slick member and causing pleasure to rush through his body. He arched up against the heavy weight of the beast as it salivated over privates, even dipping lower towards his arse before rushing up and over his navel._ _Moans escapes his throat before he realised what was happening._

 _He felt something thick and wet rub against him, dripping onto his hips and sending tremors of fear and adrenaline through his muscles. His head tossed from side-to-side. There was no way to escape, no way to fight, and had no one to help him. Tears burned in his eyes._ _The grizzly muzzle brushed roughly against his cheek, eliciting more moans from his mouth. As the beast rutted and humped his body, he eagerly raked his fingers through the rough fur, tugging at it -not sure if he wanted to pull the beast away or keep it in place. He rubbed his face against the furry muzzle, feeling the congealing blood smear his skin. It felt dirty and stuck to his skin like it was tree sap -but why did it feel so good?_

_He gasped, inhaling the musty scent. He gripped the fur, earning growls from the panting beast and gyrated into the creature as it romped between his painfully-spread legs._

_He was close -he could feel it._

_Digging his fingers deep into the hot, humming flesh he thrust against the rough, bristly fur and spilled his seed between their bodies. His cry cut through the panting of the animal on top of him. He shuddered to his full release and slumped down into the dirt, feeling cold and spent._

_The beast wasn't done with him, though._

_It arched back, howling up at the moon. The sound vibrated through his chest and made his heart thump. Then the red jaws opened wide and lunged down -_

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

Harry bolted upright, sweating and panting.

The room was dark, no fire in the grate. Did that mean no one was home yet? Perhaps it wasn't late enough? It was hard to judge in the middle of winter. Drawing in deep, calming breaths he cupped his face in his hands and raked his hair from his eyes. He blindly felt through the covers until he felt the metal frame of his glasses, and put them on.

He peeled the blankets from his body and grimaced; his trousers felt tight and stuck hard to his skin. Had he -had he really been aroused by such a terrifying dream? To have the smell and taste of blood all around him, to be physically abused and used as a humping post by a feral beast?

' _It's your mind playing tricks on you_ ,' his mind soothed. ' _Taking horrors from your reality and making them more perverse. This is how people get sent to the asylums_.'

The thought chilled him.

A tentative knock came from the door.

Harry startled, mentally admonishing himself. Of course Anderson would still be here. It was a wonder the man even knew what daylight was. "C-Come in!" he called, his voice hoarse.

The door creaked open. Anderson peered in with a candelabra in hand. "Good evening Mr. Potter, I was just coming to see if you were awake."

"I am ... now," he added as an after-thought.

"I heard you tossing around but I didn't want to disturb you," Anderson stated, as he walked steadily through the room, lighting the sconces, candles on the desk and crouching down in front of the grate and stoking the fire. It definitely felt a lot better with some light and warmth ebbing into the room.

"I didn't mean to -bother you," Harry said carefully as he awkwardly dropped his legs down from the bed and eased himself onto the cold floorboards.

"Oh, not at all sir," Anderson smiled. He straightened up and drew a flannel robe from above the wall partition. "Here, sir, come by the fire and I shall bring you some tea."

Harry was grateful for the man's attentive nature.

The robe was warm and thick and seemed to cling to his bones. He sank down into the chair, barely registering the man-servants departure until he returned with a fully set tea-tray and set it on the table beside the armchair. Harry jumped a little but smiled. "Thank you, Anderson."

"Is there anything else I can get you, sir?"

"If you could just let me know when Severus returns, I'd much appreciate it."

Anderson was about to open his mouth when someone else spoke.

"That won't be necessary, Anderson," Snape intoned as he closed the door abruptly.

Anderson stood a little straighter and bowed his head. "Of course not, sir. I'll leave you two to your tea." He left the room quickly.

Snape turned his gleaming black eyes to the young man in the armchair. "Take off your shirt," he commanded.

Harry blanched. "W-what?"

"Take your shirt off, Potter."

With hesitant fingers, Harry did as he was told. There was something about the toneless manner of Snape's voice that always left him on edge. The lack of emotion was pivotal to determining how best to interact with someone, a clue to their personality. In that regard, Snape was black slate. As soon as the lacing was undone, Snape grabbed the fabric and tore it to one side. Stitched broke in a rush.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry gasped out as his right shoulder was exposed to the firelight.

Severus's face darkened as pressed down on the raw red skin around the wound. "What were you doing before I arrived home this evening?" he drawled.

"I -I w-was a sleep."

"Then what, Potter, has caused this?"

Harry frowned up at his mentor. Glimpsing down at his shoulder he frowned and then yelled. His shoulder had an angry red wound; the skin was raw and glowing against his pale flesh, a series of blood vessels had burst under the surface of the skin in a circular motion -like a bite mark. The blue-red bruised view of the wound was sickening and sent his stomach churning. The skin had even broken in various places, smears of congealed blood sticking to his skin. It smelled awful! When had this happened? His mind was racing and panic gripped him.

"You don't know?"

Harry shook his head.

"Interesting," Severus murmured. "Wait here." Before Harry could speak, he swept out of the room. He returned moments later to find Harry hunched over and terrified in the armchair. His wide eyes glanced up at him as he withdrew a small pot and pried open the lid. The smell was strong and bitter and made Harry's throat constrict. Severus dipped his fingers into the concoction and smeared it over the wound. It stung like it was on fire. Harry hissed through gritted teeth, pressing his face deep into the upholstery. "That should do it," Severus stated.

Harry forced one of his eyes open, his jaw and body still tensed. The pale substance was smeared over his exposed shoulder, absorbing slowly into his skin. It was a burning sensation that radiated deep within the tissue and muscle. "Wh-what did you put on me?" he asked, his voice quaking. His mind was reeling.

"A salve. It should reduce the risk of any infection and heal the deeper tissues where the damage was caused."

Harry frowned, his head throbbing with a dull ache. It thrummed down his spine and seared in his shoulder. Looking up at Severus with wild, panicked eyes he suddenly doubled over and retched onto the hearthrug. He barely registered the man's disgust as he spat blood and bile onto the floor. "Severus ..." he pleaded in a croaky voice. "What's -What's happening to me?"


	4. 26th January 1890

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a little late in updating but -HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

_**~26th January 1890~** _

 

 

 

 

Harry sat on the examining table in Snape's office. The hospital still reeked of disinfectant and brought harrowing memories of that hellish night that almost saw the end of Draco's life. It made his skin crawl being in his undergarments. The room was frigid, his bones were stiff and aching. Snape was busy writing down some notes but had yet to say a word to him. The wound on Harry's shoulder prickled. It had been healing fairly well with Severus' medicated salve, however that didn't mean it made Harry feel any better about the circumstances of how the wound came to be.

Had he somehow inflicted the wound on himself whilst in the throes of his nightmare?

He wasn't sure how the mark came to be, all he did know what that it itched and irritated something dreadful and it was painful whenever he wanted to sleep.

Snape continued to scratch away at his notes.

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He needed answers and he needed them now. The clarity that answers could give him, would calm his mind and let him focus on his work. The sooner he could get back to simplifying various ways to create this new recipe, the sooner he could get back to Scotland and hopefully have a ray of hope for Draco and Remus.

"Stop day-dreaming," Severus snapped. Harry jolted back to the moment, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell that clung to the room. "From what I can conclude, the wound was self-inflicted."

Harry frowned as he reached behind himself and started to drag his shirt up his arms. "I ... I don't understand, how is that even possible?" he asked. "It doesn't make any sense. No human could practically have caused those marks on my shoulder. Least of all, myself."

"From what I'm able to tell, you may have dug into your arm rather savagely with your own nails," Severus stated, pointing to a raw patch of skin on Harry's collarbone. "There are some faint half-crescents reminiscent of fingernail marks."

This explanation did nothing to absolve Harry's fears. He'd examined himself in the broad daylight of his room earlier that morning. It was true some of the smaller marks looked similar to fingernail gauges, however so did small teeth. He had been alone, he'd known that. The dream had felt -so real. He could still feel the sensation of the grizzly, matted fur through his fingers. A shiver ran through him.

"What can I do to stop this from happening again?" he asked in a low, hollow voice as he slowly laced his cravat again.

It took a moment before Snape's low voice washed over him. "I'm not sure that I can, Harry," he said slowly. "You just need to make sure to tell me the instance this happens again and we can evaluate what leads up to this point that a wound becomes apparent."

"That's all you can do?"

A pause. "All I'm prepared to do, yes."

"Why?"

"Despite what may have been done in the past, Harry, I'd never hurt you. Otherwise I'd have Draco come all the way back down here, consequences be damned."

Harry couldn't even force a smile. He took his time dressing in silence whilst Severus retreated to the low, creaking seat behind his desk and sat down. Once dressed, Harry draped his overcoat over his forearm. "Am I free to leave?"

"As you wish," Snape waved him off.

Harry bowed his head and then made his way to the door.

Walking out of the hospital into the frigid air was almost crippling. The pain from his wounded shoulder shot through him. His mouth ran dry, desperate for the sweetness of morphine. He forced himself to push one foot in front of the other across the pavements. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could take his dosage for the pain. Severus insisted that he needed only a small trickle of the drug per day. However, Harry knew where he kept a little extra, just in case he needed any erratic side-effects.

The streets were pale with the promise of a frosty fog that hovered low over the houses. It caused an ache in his bone and made them creak as he hurried on through the streets, head bowed, to get back to the town-house as soon as possible. Once there, he tossed his coat and hat on the hat-stand beside the door and hurried up the stairs towards Snape's office on the second floor. He didn't hear Anderson anywhere else in the house as he shut the door in its frame and crossed the room to the large, mahogany desk that stood proudly beside the latticed windows.

_It's in the top drawer._

Rounding the desk, Harry felt around the drawers and found nothing until he encountered the long, narrow one in the centre of the desk. It was locked. He frowned and tapped the top of the desk in thought. It wouldn't be too hard to pick the lock. However, Severus was the sort of man who would keep a detailed log of how much morphine he had in stock. Grinding his teeth together, he kicked at the end of the desk and grimaced as pain shot up his leg. He began to pace, raking his quaking hands through his hair. What to do? What to do?

A creak came from outside.

Harry froze. "Anderson?" he called cautiously. "Is that you?"

The door clicked open and Anderson poked his head into the room. He had a sheepish look on his face as he clasped a letter to his chest. "Sorry to intrude on you, sir," he said. "There was a letter for you. It looked personal. I thought you might like to read it."

Harry could feel sweat on his brow. His gaze dropped down to the letter in Anderson's hands. It was made of thick cream parchment and the reddish brown ink was elaborate and spoke of a beautiful hand. His heart thumped heavily in his chest. He knew who it was from. He took the letter and ripped the pristine envelope open. The letter was written in the same hand ... Draco's hand.

 

' _My dearest Harry,_

_I hope the London life is treating you well, and I can only assume it has been since I have not heard from you. Life up here is very droll and I'm afraid I have nothing to report, though I simply needed to write to you. I had wished to write sooner, naturally, however there has been some tension between Remus and Sirius and I did not wish to leave either of them alone, lest the swords came out._

_I have been filling my time with reading your old journals and notes on this 'cure' you are trying to find. In my experience, our greatest weakness can also be our greatest asset. Use the moon as your tool, Harry. You may find that very specified ingredients need to be cured by the light of the moon, thus they can purge the wolf completely out of the system if only temporarily. At this point in time, you may not cure the disease, but you may dampen it's effects on the human body._

_However, none of these will be achievable in any way unless you take care of yourself. Be kind to yourself, Harry, and listen to any advice that Severus gives you. I know his humour is that of an old boot, but he means well._

_Eagerly awaiting your return,_

_Draco_.'

 

His breath caught in his throat. His compulsion for morphine made his body flush with shame and the foul taste crept up the back of his throat. Despite the waver in his hand, he folded the letter and tucked it into his waistcoat pocket. "Thank you, Anderson," he bowed his head. "I shall retire to my own office. Let Severus know where I am should he wish to find me upon his return."

"As you wish, Mister Potter."

The letter crinkled in his breast pocket as he marched along the hallway to his own office. The long windows looked down upon the courtyard out back. He missed the open moorland he had such easy access to back up at Scotland. Despite the miserable weather and how bitter everything became in any month that wasn't July, Harry had grown excited by the prospect of spending half his time up in the quiet, crisp tranquillity. It did help to calm his mind despite what anyone else thought.

Above the windows, a small worn leather pouch hung tucked away behind the curtains. Just looking at it, he could smell the bittersweet scent of aconite flowers drift on the still air.

It reminded him of Draco.

The ache in his chest grew to a crippling degree. He needed to sit down to stop his head from swimming. ' _I need to work_ ,' he thought through the fog in his head.  _'I need to focus on my work_.'

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

Severus returned home at midnight.

Anderson greeted him as usual, despite Severus having to keep reminding the man that he was allowed to go to sleep after a certain hour. There were times he hadn't returned from the hospital until the early hours of the morning. Anderson had been there to greet him, his face grey with fatigue. That had been the start of a very strained conversation. On this night, however, Anderson had written a small note and left it on his desk, informing him that his dinner was waiting in the pantry should he feel hungry.

' _So he_  can  _learn_ ,' Severus mused, crumpling the note into a ball and tossing it into the low fire. He stacked his journals from the day on his desk. Leaving the room he strode along the hallway and was about to descend the stairs when a sliver of light coming from Harry's office caught his eye. Pursing his lips, Severus crossed the moonlit walkway and pushed the door open.

The room beyond was ablaze with candlelight. They dotted every available, non-flammable surface. Severus had to blink a few times before his eyes adjusted to the onslaught of brightness. Papers were scattered over the chairs and small tables -discarded there perhaps? -however the mess grew denser as Severus looked over toward the large desk. Amid the chaos, Harry stood hunched over a small pewter cauldron, stirring a mixture near the window. The curtains were drawn back, exposing the boy and the potion to the glare of the quarter-moon hanging in the sky.

"Harry."

The boy jumped, nearly tipping the bubbling contents over the floor.

"Careful boy!"

Harry quickly righted himself, balancing the cauldron properly and hooking the ladle on the rim. He raked his hair out of his eyes and straightened a little, the tension immediately ebbing into his posture. "I didn't hear you come in," he stated, his arm protecting sliding in front of his current experiment.

Severus quirked a black eyebrow but didn't comment on the boy's stance. Walking into the room, he idly glimpsed over the notes, drinking in as much of the untidy scrawl as possible. He frowned; the writing was rather erratic to the point of incoherence. "Harry, did you do all this today?"

"In the last two hours or so," he answered dismissively. "I think I found something that should work, of course I'll need to brew it in the light of the full-moon for it to be effective."

"So why are you brewing it tonight?"

"To make sure there's no corrosive elements in this recipe."

Severus stared at him in disbelief.

"I just want to make sure that I don't poison anyone," he added in a harried after-thought.

Severus suppressed a sigh and the urge to roll his eyes. He had two options here; he could either go back to his own bedchamber and get some proper sleep himself or -or he could sacrifice one last night of sleep and offer some assistance. "Now, which one of these recipe's hasn't been produced yet and I'll make a start on it," Severus stated, tapping his index finger on one of the splayed journals.

Harry stared up at the man for a moment before pressing his lips into a grateful grimace. "The red leather one," he finally said. "Those two haven't been made yet."

Severus inclined his head and set to work.

 

 

 

 

~0~

_**~ 30th January 1890 ~** _

~0~

 

 

 

The sky darkened beyond the glass and Harry tried not to sigh as he readjusted his position in the train coach as they pulled out of Yorkshire station. He'd taken a small detour to see his parents and was grateful that everything seemed to be well with them, although they hadn't received the letter he'd sent them from London. They were pleased to see him however, and he was glad for some home-cooked food, tea and his mother's soft voice. However, it also meant he had delayed his journey back home by an extra seven hours. He'd already spent one night moving out of London in a cramped position, and now he was suffering through another.

The wood was stiff and cold against his aching muscles. His head was spinning a little as the train creaked and chugged alone the tracks, squeaking every so often as they eased through a bend. Digging his fingers into his waistcoat he pried his pocket-watch out and glanced at the shimmering face. He'd be arriving in Scotland within the next three hours. He'd needed to pay for another trunk to be loaded and handled carefully. It was filled with the formulas he and Snape had prepared. His stomach twisted.

So much was hanging on these last few recipes that it made his skin prickle.

' _Don't think on it_ ,' his mind pleaded as he forced his aching eyes closed. The train rocked, jostling his head against the chilled glass. ' _Try and relax a little and don't think on the implications_.'

It was hard to follow his advice.

Letting his eyes fall shut, Harry let himself tumble into a fretful sleep.

Starting awake, Harry frowned as his thoughts caught up with him. The train car was dark, empty and flowed with an icy air that even his thicket coat was unable to shield him from. He had even dragged a blanket out of one of his trunks and wrapped it tightly around his lower body as he huddled into a dark corner of his car. Very few people wanted to journey this far North, least of all in the middle of winter. Harry, for his part, hadn't wanted to delay returning to Scotland any longer than possible. There was to be another full-moon within a matter of days and the thought alone made his blood run cold.

The thought of Draco growing irate in that manor without any company was -harrowing.

Then again, there was always the possibility that Sirius allowed the blonde man to go about town and do as he pleased. There was only so much control one man could have over one werewolf let alone two. Thank God that Harry was to return to their manor soon. He was almost excitable for the next full-moon as long as it meant narrowing down which of the potions would work. He had no idea what results he expected, only that something must be a marked improvement from the carnivorous monster that was unleashed each month.

He checked his watch again.

One hour to go.

 

 

By the time the train pulled into Perth station, it was past one in the morning and every part of Harry's body felt stiff, scratchy and irritable. The window pane had almost become opaque as the thick tendrils of frost had crept over the glass and turned it a milky white. If Harry squinted behind his glasses, he could almost distinguish a pale layer of snow dusting the tops of the buildings and chilling the streets. It made his shoes slip as he gathered his luggage from the baggage-car and staggered towards the ticket inspector and got let through to the outside of the station. He was too tired to feel surprised when he saw the familiar top hat of his godfather waiting just outside the station gates. A plume of cigarette smoke drifted into the air overheard, giving a sharp stink of tobacco adding to the unpleasantness.

"Sirius?" Harry called out hoarsely.

The older man turned and smiled, his moustache twitching up at the corners as his eyes landed on his godson. "I was thinking you were going to be delayed yet again," he remarked, quirking an eyebrow.

"As you can see, I didn't want to cause any more unnecessary delays."

"I see you've also brought half of London back with you," Sirius mused, reaching for Harry's trunks. "What on earth have you been doing down there these last two weeks?"

Harry was too tense with the cold to glare up at his godfather's jovial attitude. He just needed to feel his blood rushing around again. Then, perhaps, he could feel more human. Together, they strapped the trunks to the roof of the carriage awaiting them, before climbing up inside.

"Severus and I were able to create two new formulas. We need to see which one has a better effect, which will determine the recipe itself, and then brewing a new batch at the light of a full-moon should provide some positive results."

Sirius frowned as the carriage jolted forward, the horse-hooves clacking on the crisp cobblestones. "Have you considered that there may not be any improvements to work from?" he asked.

"Yes," Harry bit out tightly. "However, let us cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?"

Sirius frowned down at his godson. "We're worried about you Harry," he finally allowed the words to hang in the frigid air between them. "Remus is helping Draco come to terms with what has happened to him. We want this to be a success of course we do. I shall fund every penny of my inheritance to see to that end, if that's what it takes. However," he paused for a moment, letting his words sink in. "You need to come to terms with it too. Some things just cannot be cured. At least, not yet."

"I want to give them hope."

Sirius reached out clasped the younger man's arm. "Harry, every time you help them recover from a full-moon episode -you give them hope."

"It's not enough."

"I know," Sirius sighed, the weight of his words taking Harry by surprise. All too suddenly, his godfather's profile looked aged in the pale light filtering in through the drawn curtains as they manoeuvred beyond the outskirts of town and towards their manor. "However, sometimes we must make our peace and accept certain limitations before we destroy ourselves hunting for something that does not wish to be found."

Harry turned to look out of the window, his chest feeling heavy.

The moorlands were stark black, faintly touched by the silvery light from above, just enough to distinguish the night sky from the hard, frost-covered ground below. There were only a handful of twinkling lights indicating a small cottage or hut in the far distance, but the main townsfolk had been left behind some miles ago. The carriage creaked along over the uneven road, making their bones rattle. It was only when the road started to level-out that Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

They were nearly home.

 

 

 

Unloading the luggage from the top of the carriage, Harry and Sirius tipped the driver handsomely -the only way to have ensured his help for such a long distance in the bitter weather -and hauled the trunks carefully up the stone steps and set them down inside the front door. Closing the large oak doors to the shrieking winds, Harry's body violently shivered as the sudden heat washed over him. He made short work of taking off his outer layers, including his over-coat and tailored coat. Sirius did the same thing, his cheeks flushing bright red as he tugged the cravat from his throat and drew in deep, calming breaths.

"Are you hungry?" Sirius asked.

Harry, panting, could barely nod.

Sirius piled Harry's belongings in a small alcove off to the side of the entrance hall and beckoned for his godson to follow him down to the kitchens. They made their way down the spiral stone staircase in silence, the only sound coming from their footsteps as they descended. The cavernous kitchen was illuminated by a fire in the large fireplace, and the lanterns flickering from the ceiling. They were the only ones in there. Harry frowned.

"Where's Draco?" he asked.

Sirius crossed the kitchen and started reheating something that had been sitting on the stove. No doubt Remus had cooked something prior to his arrival. "Remus is no doubt pacing his bedchamber and Draco is probably reading despite claiming he was going to bed early."

Harry decided not to comment on that. Due to his sporadic napping on the train journey, time had escaped him. It was just gone two in the morning; it was no wonder the others were mentally retiring for the night, even if their physical bodies refused to. He couldn't help but wonder if he would see Draco before dawn broke. Maybe ...

"When is the next full moon then?" Sirius asked, breaking the silence.

Harry frowned down as a bowl of dumpling broth was placed before him. The hot scent of wet meat turned his stomach, but he was ever so hungry. The wine helped. "The end of next week," Harry stated as he took another gulp of wine.

"So should I assume that you'll be up in the attic and conducting these new experiments in order to complete them under the first full moon?"

"Yes," Harry hedged.

"Would you like help?"

Harry looked up sharply, his eyes widening. "Are you -sure, Sirius? I know how much you distaste these methods."

Sirius gave a tight smile, the lines around his eyes deepening for a moment. "The more help you have, the less of the guilt will be solely upon you, should things go wrong."

"That's hardly comforting, Sirius."

"It wasn't meant to be, Harry."

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

The cold, dark moorland echoed with the calls of various wild animals that roamed the tall grasses. Harry was used to these noises, yet it was still so quiet compared to the oppressive air of London. He had very little time to appreciate it though, as he holed himself away in the attic. Sirius would come in for hours at a time and read through Harry's journals to make sure that they made sense, making small notes here and there which Harry was grateful for. He needed an outside opinion to present any issues to him so that he could correct them. Sirius also made himself useful by preparing the ingredients and offering Harry an extra, physical pair of hands to aid in the brewing.

Outside of the preparations, Harry didn't see much of Remus. Sirius insisted that it was because the man struggled with the few days before a full moon, having mood-swings that could make him rather aggressive -something that Harry still struggled to envision despite having lived with everyone part-time for the better part of a year and a half. He kept himself to himself in one of the bedchambers the furthest away from the attic space Harry used.

Draco on the other hand, made an appearance the very next evening.

Harry was just measuring some ingredients over an open flame, dark safety goggles snapped on over his head, when the door opened, making him jump and nearly sending a flurry of moonseeds into the fire. "Jesus! Could you knock first?!" he snarled, straightened up and lowering the gas-fire. It took him a few moments to gather himself together and realise it was Draco who had interrupted him this time. "Oh ... I'm sorry -I didn't know it was you."

"Clearly," the blonde remarked.

Harry ducked his head, feeling uncomfortably warm.

"So, what are you working on this time?"

Harry frowned up at the blonde as though he'd grown a second head. "Are we really that starved for conversation?"

"I'm the one trying to start one, so you tell me."

They stared at each other over the large, beaten desk. Harry was the first to look away. He couldn't help it. There was a metallic gleam to Draco's eyes now that unnerved him. "I -I'm working on the last to recipes I have to try. With any luck one of them will be more effective than the other."

"Will that help you narrow down the proper method to create the cure?" the blonde asked.

"I hope so, yes."

"How many of these are you brewing?" Draco asked, only just noticing the five standing cauldrons on the window sill, their tops covered with a flat, steel lid. Every now and then a soft wisp of silvery smoke puffed from under the lid.

"I'm hoping to manage at least eight," Harry admitted, raking his tangled hair out of his eyes.

"Full moon's don't tend to last that long."

Harry averted his gaze. He rubbed the back of his neck and turned away from the tall blonde man before him. "You and Remus would have to try a different one each."

The silence hung between them like a heavy curtain.

"I don't understand."

"Well from what we were able to establish is that you and Remus are in two completely different stages of life, mentally and physically. However, we have managed to establish that the potions effect you both in the exact same way." He paused to catch his breath, hunching his shoulders up and bracing himself against a sharp wind that whistled through the attic. "That means that we'd be able to test a few more trial-potions before settling on one. Then I can focus on perfecting the brewing."

He turned to see the blonde's reaction -and found himself being pushed back against his storage cabinet, a hot, wet set of teeth grazing down his neck. The nightmarish memory of bloody jaws and the harrowing arousal he'd felt when rutting against matted fur surged through him and made him tense and shy away from Draco's mouth.

Draco stopped.

He could feel Harry's tension underneath him and recoiled. He leaned down so that his mouth barely grazed the brunette's ear, "Do you want me to go?"

Harry wanted to say 'no' but suddenly his head was nodding up and down.

"I see."

Those were the last words he heard Draco utter before the blonde turned and stalked from the room. It was only when the door slammed shut, did Harry feel like he could breathe -not that it quelled the disappointment and upset that rang through him. ' _Focus!_ ' his brain snapped. ' _You can deal with Draco later. You're so close to finalising these few trial potions. Get it all ready, otherwise you'll panic when the full moon comes_.'

Feeling determined if not energised, Harry turned back to the large table where his latest experiment was simmering over the fire. His muscles were tense and sore with knots the size of his fist, but there was nothing to be done about that. He needed to focus. He could only hope that some sleep after the full moon would ease his body into relaxing a little. As the potion simmered, bubbled and popped in the cauldron, Harry hunched over his journals, marking off parts of the procedure that he'd already completed.

Every now and then his mind would shift to query what Draco was doing right now, whether or not he was still angry at him and how he was going to make things more amicable between them. He wished he had the heart to speak with Remus and try to understand how he had managed to cope for so long with his own erratic mood-swings. He also wished Sirius could relate to him how he dealt with Remus so close to a full-moon, however whenever he had tried the older man had gotten distracted.

Within forty-eight hours, specifically counted as needed to be done, Harry had all eight cauldrons positioned on the large desk he and Sirius had pushed towards the large windows. As the moon grew fatter in the sky, he would uncover each cauldron and let it simmer in the moonlight. He only had another day before the full moon.

His stomach squirmed whenever he thought about it.

He needed this to work.

He only hoped God would forgive him for any unforeseen circumstances that may befall them. He touched at the bullet on the chain around his neck and let out a quaking breath. "God, please, keep them safe," he pleaded into the darkness as his eyelids finally grew heavy. "Please,  _please_  keep them safe."


	5. 2nd February 1890

**~2nd February 1** **890~**

 

 

 

The world seemed to have grown cold and quiet outside the manor. Even the wild-life seemed to have burrowed away and deserted the area. Did they know what was coming as soon as the sun set? Harry could only speculate that they did and had taken precautions to keep themselves self. For themselves, Draco and Remus had been told to sleep as long as they could physically muster before it became unbearable. Sirius was busy sharpening his weapons and preparing his guns, just in case things did not go according to plan. Whenever Harry heard the steel-on-steel noise, his teeth were set on edge. It made him feel terrified that they may need to resort to such violence.

In the attic everything had been set out for the procedure that would be performed.

The marble slabs had been scrubbed within an inch of their life and despite the thick rubber gloves, Harry was sure his skin prickled with the chemicals. He'd even needed to open all the tall windows so that the frozen air rushed through the attic, dispelling the stench as much as possible.

By the time darkness fell at around 4PM, everything was ready. The potions were already all exposed towards the moonlight on the sill of a window far down along the attic. Thankfully there were no clouds this evening, making the air especially brutal. Harry had pulled on several layers under his rubber gloves and apron. Sirius was ready and waiting in a chair beside the desk, his sword resting lightly against his leg. Harry tried his best not to look at the weapon but found that it wasn't that easy. At around 5PM -before the moon had risen properly behind the shuttered windows in front of the examination slabs -Remus and Draco tentatively edged into the attic. There was a tension to their limbs, and a wariness in their bright, metallic eyes that sent a shiver down Harry's spine.

"Good evening Harry," Remus forced a smile, his eyes looking especially tired and wary as he closed the door behind the young blonde man before making his way towards the marble slab. His nostrils flared especially wide, taking in the acrid aroma of the potion simmering under the moonlight. "I take it we have some new trials this month?"

A muscle twitched in Harry's jaw. "Y-yes, that's right. Eight, to be precise."

"And we're to take one each?"

"Yes -a better was to eliminate what doesn't work."

Remus seemed to deem that a decent enough response. Draco still hadn't said a word, he'd barely even looked up from the marble slab. Remus made his way between the tables and over to Sirius. They greeted and embraced a little tighter than usual. It was like they were saying a silent goodbye. It shone the amber-eyed man in a new light.

Harry walked over to the blonde, reached out to touch his elbow and then froze mid-air. He tugged the rubber gloves off and took the older man's hand in his own. "I know you're scared," he murmured quietly, even though he was sure he saw Remus' ear twitch. "I'm terrified too. I won't let anything bad happen to you, I promise."

"You can't promise that," Draco hissed. He was scared; he was practically humming with nerves.

"I can promise to try."

"I don't want to do anything I'll regret, Harry."

"You won't!" Harry insisted sharply. It took a moment before the sharp gaze locked on his own finally sank into his brain. Ah, so that was it? Draco was worried of harming  _him_. Swallowing thickly he leaned his head against the blonde man's rigid shoulder. "You will not bring harm to me, Draco. I promise."

He didn't respond. He was too terrified about what was going to happen for the rest of the night. He wanted to protect Harry as much as possible but he knew that would be taken out of his control. He tried to focus on his breathing as much as possible, but if he tried too hard then it would just bring furious tears to his eyes.

"I think it's time, Harry," Sirius said, breaking the tense silence.

Harry glanced over to where the two older men were gently releasing one another from their tight embrace. Remus had tear tracks shining down his cheeks. Sirius had an extra shine to his own eyes, a physical state Harry had never seen from his godfather. He pursed his lips tightly, feeling a heavy tug on his navel. "Yes," he agreed. "Let's get this started."

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

Draco drew in a deep breath. He winced as the sharp cold bit into his naked back. The leather bindings were tight and cutting off circulation to his hands and feet. Gloved hands came into view and suddenly a burning cold metal collar was clamped down over his neck. Panic surged through his veins, making his limbs convulse against the restraints. On the marble slab beside him, Remus was having a much calmer reaction. Of course he had simply dealt with Sirius and his hunting knowledge prior to Harry's intervention. Turning his eyes back to the ceiling, Draco did his best to calm his breathing, to no avail.

Harry loathed to see Draco in such a vulnerable state; dressed only in his undergarments and strapped to a cold, marble table he had never felt more like a God in his life. The feeling was like an evil tarnish to his mind and if he could peel the black residue of it from his insides, he would. Swallowing thickly, he took one of the long, silver needles -specially made for these treatments -and slowly pierced the base of his lover's heel. Draco's leg bucked, straining desperately against the bindings.

A muffled cry came from behind his gag.

Harry desperately tried to close his ears to the cries of pain as the needle slid all the way inside to the eye. The chloroform needed to kick in quickly. Sirius was experiencing much the same thing with Remus, although the lycan seemed to have a higher threshold for physical pain. Harry focused on inserting another needle to Draco's other foot, and then moved up his body to insert needles into his navel, and his palms. By the time Harry inserted the single needle into Draco's neck the blonde man had stopped squirming. There was a glassy look in his eyes and his pupils had doubled in size. On the other slab, Remus had gone languid as well.

"Are they ready?" Sirius asked, his low voice sounding so loud in the silence of the attic.

"Yes," Harry murmured.

Suppressing a shiver he and Sirius went over to the two cauldrons that they needed for this evening's experiment. Very carefully, they used a small brass pump to inject the potion deep into both of the lycan's veins. The veins stood out like swollen cracks in their skin, flushing a deep blue colour as it surged through their hearts. Despite the chloroform, their bodies jolted and bucked against the bindings. Harry rotated between Draco's slab and Remus's, making sure that all the potion was pumped through.

A low groan came from Remus.

A softer one came from Draco.

"Okay, we need to untie them," Harry stated, trying to take more control of the situation, and his bearings. Together, he and Sirius unfastened all the leather straps that bound the two semi-nude men to the marble slabs. Shifting his hands under Draco's armpits, Harry heaved the older man up into a sitting position, grimacing as his fingers slid over the greasy skin. Draco's head lulled onto his chest. A string of saliva and blood dripped from his parted lips. He must have bitten his tongue before the chloroform kicked in.

"How is Remus doing?" Harry called over his shoulder, not daring to take his eyes off the swaying blonde, just in case something went wrong before they transformed.

"He's disorientated, which is what we want," Sirius observed. "Nothing else seemed to be wrong. Let's get them on their feet and downstairs. Then we can give them a dose and see how they fare outside."

As a team, they managed to get Remus and Draco onto their feet. Both men were swaying and could barely keep their eyelids open. Bottled and strapped into his apron were the two potions. The two lycan's huffed and sniffed erratically, almost like a dog that had sniffed a pile of flour. Their panting was growing louder. Harry was glad that they'd thought to draw all the curtains throughout the manor before nightfall.

 

 

Reaching the entrance hall was nothing short of a miracle.

Remus and Draco were barely hanging on by the time they reached the polished marble floors. They sank down onto the floor, yelping weakly as the cold seared through their skin. Draco could hardly focus his eyes as his head dropped down heavily onto the other lycan's shoulder. Harry tried not to feel a twinge of jealousy as he took Draco's jaw in his palm and tilted his head up. Forcing a thumb into the blonde's mouth, he pried the lips wide enough to be able to force the neck of the first bottle inside for him to drink.

Draco tried to yank his head away but he was too dizzy to do so properly. He grimaced and choked as he swallowed the foul-tasting potion.

Once he was finished, Harry uncorked the second bottle in his apron and fed it to Remus. Sirius was holding his companion's mouth open so that Harry didn't need to force his jaw open. Remus drank the potion with a lot less fuss than Draco caused. Harry had to wonder if that was because the potion had the same vile taste despite a slight change in the recipe, or whether Remus was just used to such things at this point.

Only time would tell.

Crouched in front of Draco, Harry didn't have the heart to force him out into the moonlight to endure the bone-shattering change that occurred every month. It twisted his stomach. However, his godfather's heavy hand on his shoulder and solemn gaze was enough to steel his emotions enough to be able to stand up, drag Draco and Remus up to their shaking legs and guided them towards the large, oak doors. They staggered awkwardly along, their feet scraping along the marble, their knees knocking against one another. The rush of cold air hit them all as Sirius tugged the door open.

Both lycan's stilled, their ears pricking at the whistling wind beyond.

It was like the moon was calling out to them.

Remus shifted first, being the eldest one, moving towards the door. He forced his feet one in front of the other. The wind clawed his hair back. Before he stepped out into the moonlight he turned back and, with the calmness of encouraging a child to walk, beckoned for Draco to take his hand. The blonde shuddered before extending his hand out and slipping his palm into the older man's. Harry felt the twinge of jealousy again. He bit the inside of his cheek and reminded himself that this was a part of Draco's life he could never fully understand, regardless of how he felt about it. He watched the two half-naked men slid out into the night. Harry barely glimpsed the pale skin drenched in moonlight before Sirius slammed the door shut.

Bolts ground into place, setting his teeth on edge. Just in time, too, as the next moment the blood-curling howls echoed in the air.

Harry felt shell-shocked as Sirius forced the last of the bolts into place and then straightened up, breathing deeply.

"I think a strong cup of tea is in order," he finally murmured, sweeping his dark locks out of his eyes.

Harry glowered up at his godfather as he hunched over, hugging his arms tightly around himself. "Tea isn't the answer to all our problems, Sirius."

"Wine?"

A pause. "Okay."

With two bottles of wine, Sirius and Harry went out onto the second floor balcony that over-looked the open expanse of land before them. The grass was brittle and black, rustling as the wind rippled through it. Bundled up in numerous layers, Harry knew he was risking his own health, however this was a sombre little ritual they had developed. They drank a bottle of wine or two on the balcony and watched their wolves until the wine was gone. It helped their sober minds rest a little easier.

This night was no different.

 

Reclining back under the stars, both men gazed out forlornly at the manor grounds, watching for any sign of the two werewolves. It could be difficult to spot them in the vast darkness but their howls often carried on the wind. Harry tried to convince himself that he was glad for some alone-time with his godfather, however their conversations would often fall short when worry ebbed into their minds, sober or otherwise.

This particular night the two lycan's kept nearer the house than they had in recent months. They frolicked in the tall grasses, playing games that only they knew the rules to. To Harry it looked maddening. They snapped playfully at one another, rolling around in the leaves, nipping and pawing at one another. It was toward the end of the first bottle of wine -and when the moon was high in the sky -when the playing turned to something else.

Harry nearly spat his wine when Remus presented himself.

He definitely choked when he watched Draco mount the older wolf and start thrusting, biting down on the back of his scruff, forcing keening howls to ripple through the air.

He gingerly touched at the healing wound on his shoulder, feeling the prickle of rage under his fingertips. "Wh-what are they doing?" he managed to breathe. He couldn't keep the furious bite out of his voice as he watched Draco bowing low of the older wolf's back and moving his hips faster, his claws digging into the earth.

"They're fucking."

"I can see that!" Harry sneered. "Why are they doing it?!"

"They're animals at this point Harry," Sirius sighed dejectedly. "They won't remember this. I've seen Remus mate with a  _real_  wolf before. There's nothing either of us can do that wouldn't result in dying."

Harry swallowed the bile at the back of his throat. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight before him, despite wanting to erase the imagery forever. It had been so long since he and Draco had been intimate with one another. He never seemed able to let go, to reach the full, physical release he desperately desired. Some part of him always resisted reaching the peek of ecstasy. Apparently being the dominant one was something that was biological in the blonde, as he slid off of Remus, lavished his matted fur with a few chaste licks and then tugged on his tail to initiate another game.

That was how the night wore on; games of chasing, biting and romping in the brittle undergrowth. Harry drank the last of the wine and was too numb to feel anything about watching his lover mate with another man. Sirius eventually excused himself to get a few hours of sleep. Harry knew he needed to do the same, his body urged him to do it. However his mind wanted to wait, to see if Draco's libido was heightened anymore in his werewolf form. It was hard to believe this was the same man he longed to share a bed with every night.

' _I need to sleep_ ,' his mind said logically. ' _That's all I need to do right now. Watching Draco fornicate all night long wouldn't help my psyche_.'

With a weary sigh, he ran a cold hand down the length of his face and shifted out of his chair. His limbs were stiff and his bones ached. He could only hope that he would feel better in the morning -and that all of this would be remembered as a drunken nightmare.

For the first time in weeks, Harry crawled into bed whilst it was still dark outside. He wore only a thin nightshirt that already clung to his body in a cold sweat. The world swayed softly around him, blurred as he took of his glasses and slumped down heavily onto the mound of pillows awaiting his head. Nestling into the cool sheets, he dragged the heavy coverlet over the length of his body and let his sore eyelids close. He couldn't be sure if it was his ears playing a trick on him, but he was sure he heard the two wolves howling again before he succumbed.

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

_Heat ..._

_Heat ..._

_Such tight heat ..._

_Blood and fur ... sharp teeth ... Always on top -cannot submit!_

_Cold blackness surrounding us. Heavy moon pinning us down. Can only play and run and fuck and howl!_

_Want to be back -want to go back to him!_

_Saliva dribbling down into the fur. Claws digging into the earth, the flesh, gripping the hot body against him -harder, harder! Not his but close enough!_

_Need the sun -need the coolness -need to feel small again. Throbbing blood and veins and teeth -Lightness!_

_Need the light!_

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

The door creaked open in the early hours of the morning.

The weight of footsteps padded gently over to the four-poster bed. The mattress dipped with his weight and jostled the sleeping brunette nestled, naked, in the soft, warm sheets. Such an inviting sight. So soft, comfortable and pliable. Harry barely cracked an eye open as Draco shifted up onto the bed and slipped underneath the sheets. He shivered as he moved close, pressing his naked body against the warmth of Harry's own. He was frazzled, matted and scuffed. He's managed to rinse the worst of the dirt from his skin with a few handfuls of cold puddle water that he'd had to break with a rock.

He and Remus had awoken on the paved walkway just in front of the manor's back garden doors. They'd been naked, smeared with blood and dirt. They didn't really have any energy left to exchange any words. They'd simply rubbed themselves a little cleaner in the puddles that had barely thawed and dragged themselves indoors.

The inside of the manor was dark, the furniture barely illuminated by the gloomy sunlight that filtered in from under the curtains. It felt icy against their bare feet as they mounted the stairs, clinging to the bannisters and one another for dear life before they made it to the level surface of the landing.

Harry and Sirius had rooms on either end of the landing. They bade one another a silent goodbye before shifting awkwardly down along the strip of carpet that ran down the centre of the hallway. Draco felt sweat break out over his skin as he edged along the hall, his ankles rolling awkwardly under his weight as he drew closer to Harry's chamber. If it can't been for his damned condition of his, he knew he wouldn't even be able to smell Harry, let alone find his way in the darkness of the corridor.

His hands skimmed along the walls, bumping over the frames and tapestries that hung from them. He tried to mentally count his footsteps but it didn't do any good as his chest bumped into the door. He grunted, feeling weak on his own legs. He felt around for the door knob, twisted it, and let himself fall through into the room beyond.

There was more light in this room.

Harry must have opened the curtains before going to bed, letting some of the moonlight fall across the floorboards.

Padding over to the four-poster bed, Draco let his eyes adjust to the feeble light. Harry was a lump under the thick blankets, his head lulled onto one side against the white pillows. He had a frown on his face. That was almost a permanent look these days. Guilt twisted his insides into a painful knot in his chest. Swallowing thickly –his mouth tasted foul –as Draco took the blankets in his hands and tugged gently. They came loose, giving Draco just enough room to push himself up onto the bed and slide underneath them.

He let out a shaking breath.

Turning onto his side, Draco focused on the dark mass of Harry's hair. The warmth from the brunette's body made him shiver, realising just how frost-bitten he felt as he burrowed further down under the blankets. His limbs gravitated towards the warm mass next to him; he just wanted to lie on top of Harry, soaking up the heat from him as they slept. However, the shock of Draco's cold limbs would most likely jar Harry into consciousness, and then he would never get back to sleep.

The one thing Draco could give him was a good night sleep.

As his body slowly warmed up, his breath circulating under the covers, Draco inched closer to Harry's sleeping body and, after an hour or relaxing, let his arms wrap over the younger man's body, pulling him closer and shifting his head onto his lover's chest. It felt like the closest they'd been to one another for months. Even with their intimate moments in the last few months, it felt as though something was missing, something kept some distance between them.

Harry shifted, his breathing choking a little. He frowned deeper in his sleep.

Draco froze on top of him, wondering if he needed to shift off of him to make him feel more comfortable. He didn't want to. However, Harry just shifted a little and loosely draped an arm over Draco's back. It was like a bolt of lightning in his blood. If Draco had had any more energy, he might have allowed a tear or two to run down the side of his nose and soak into Harry's nightshirt. However, the moon had bled him dry, leaving him a raw husk barely capable of standing on his own two feet.

Clinging to Harry, Draco closed his eyes and relaxed, letting the darkness roll over him.

 

 

 

The following morning Harry awoke without a headache for the first time in weeks. It had nothing to do with the feeble sunlight breaking through the curtains of his four-poster bed, nor the ache in his joints from sitting awkwardly in the cold and drinking wine until the early hours of the morning. No, he felt rather pleasant this morning; he was warm, but not uncomfortably so, despite the weight resting on top of him.

Frowning, he glanced down at his chest.

A mop of greasy blonde hair was spread over his right shoulder, thin gold strands reaching out over his chest like veins. It was eerie, almost glowing through the gloom. Draco's pearly white face peaked out from the blankets, his purple-hued eyelids tired and closed in sleep. It was such an unexpected sight that Harry didn't want to move or shift. The sensation of comfort and belonging was so over-whelming that his brain had no idea how to react. Instead, he just turned on his side, rested their foreheads together and pulled Draco closer against his chest and closed his eyes to go back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ended on a softer note, but I hope you liked it all the same! x


	6. 3rd February 1890

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Violent imagery ahead.

**_~3 rd February 1890~_ **

 

 

 

Draco sprang upright in bed, drenched in sweat and panting heavily.

A hand on his chest pushed him back. Panic shot through him and he scrambled against the tangled sheets, trying to get away.

_“Draco, Draco calm down!”  
_

Was that Harry’s voice? Why did he sound so far away? Why were his limbs restricted?

Upon focusing his eyes, he noted that he was indeed in Harry’s bed, the young brunette leaning over him with his comforting hands pressing gently against his chest. Drawing in deep breaths, he tried to focus on his breathing. His chest ached from where his heart beat furiously. The sound of water rushing and hitting something caught his attention. The hairs on the nape of his neck stood up on end. A glass of water appeared under his nose.

“Drink,” Harry insisted, guiding Draco’s cold hands to take the glass. He did so, willingly taking several long drinks from the glass before cupping it in his lap. A shiver ran through him.

“Wh-What happened last night?” he managed to ask. His voice was deep, throaty, as though he’d worn a metal clamp around his neck all night. He absently rubbed at the raw skin, wincing at the ghost of a bruise on his flesh.

Harry took a few moments before responding.

“You and Remus were very proactive last night,” he finally murmured, letting himself sit down on the edge of the bed. Draco could feel the weight of those eyes burning through his skull. There was an edginess to Harry’s voice, as though he was torn between getting comfortable with Draco and being as far away from him as possible. It was an unsettling feeling.

“What exactly do you mean?”

“You and Remus …” Harry trailed off, his insides twisting with jealousy as the blurred images replayed over and over in his mind from last night. He cleared his throat. “You –um –you engaged in carnal activities with one another.”

The words sank cold and hard in Draco’s mind.

He let out an exasperated little laugh.

“Is that why you can barely look at me?”

Harry felt his cheeks burn up but didn’t deny Draco’s word.

Raking a hand through his greasy, dishevelled hair, Draco let out a mirthless chuckle. “Harry, I have literally no recollection of any of that happening.”

“I can say the same thing after drinking a bottle of wine,” Harry retorted drily.

“It’s not like being, drunk, Harry and you know it.” Draco let out a long, weary sigh and rubbed his hands down his face. “I never remember anything from those nights, not even months down the line. It’s like an empty space in my memory, a hole that never gets filled.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

Draco gave the younger man an exasperated look. “I honestly don’t know what else I can say Harry. With you, it’s always one step forward, ten steps back. I cannot live in such a frivolous relationship! You either wish to be with me or you do not!”

Harry let out a slow, shaking breath. “Draco, wanting to be with you has absolutely nothing to do with any of this. I’d love nothing more if things were simple. However,” he let a shiver run through him. “Things have never been simple for us.”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t be.”

“How?” Harry challenged. He let out a bitter life, flaring his arms about him. “How can we possibly have a simple life knowing what you are and what you can do?”

“This lycanthropy doesn’t have to hinder our lives, Harry,” Draco strained to make his tone calmer, to no real avail. “Not the way you have let it devour yours.”

“I need to cure you!”

“To what end?!” Draco snapped. It came out in a rush of hot passion. It swelled heavily in his throat and shot out of his mouth. “Harry, you barely sleep, eat or share a conversation with any of us! You –You need to let this go.”

“Not after the things I’ve seen,” Harry shook his head. He turned his back on the blonde man. “After the things you did last night … to another man …”

“I told you, it wasn’t me! I was not in my right mind!”

“All I have is your word,” Harry seethed. “That doesn’t make it so.”

They lapsed into a painful silence.

Draco was the one to break it. “This cannot go on, Harry,” he sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’re reaching a breaking point and I don’t want things to go wrong for any one of us.”

Harry glanced over at him, but didn’t comment.

“You need to decide if you’re willing to throw your life away for this.”

“And what if I am?”

There was a heavy silence. The sound of someone moving over the floorboards towards the door flooded the air. The door opened. “Then you’re going to have to do it on your own.”

The door slammed shut, causing Harry to flinch.

The argument was over –yet somehow he felt as though he’d lost Draco that little bit more.

Harry dropped his head into his hands and wondered over to the window-seat. He slumped down heavily into the stiff padded seat and looked out over the grounds. They were bleak and grey, a heavy fog pressing up against the windows. He couldn’t see too far across the lawn. He knew there was a gate somewhere right down the end. A chill rushed down under his shirt. He’d been bothered during the night by Draco’s fidgeting and hadn’t managed to get back to sleep. He’d held the blonde man as he’d shifted and clawed at the sheets, growling and huffing under his breath.

He’d clung to Harry for two whole hours –so tightly he could barely breathe.

As always trying to talk to Draco had led him in circles. He didn’t want to be caught in this constant cycle of sleeplessness and misery. He didn’t want to keep the rest of his little family at arm’s length. Did no one else see that he was just as tired as the rest of them after each trial? Did they think he enjoyed travelling up and down to London as often as he did?

Lying awake with Draco cradled to his chest, Harry had made the choice to stop.

There would be no more rushing around London and other cities looking for herbs and plants that had been rumoured to be of any use to curing lycanthropy.

There would be no more losing sleep and watching day turn into night and then back into day.

He wouldn’t stop forever. That would be impossible. However, he had made the decision that as soon as they had trialled each one of his latest potions, then he could take at least six months reprieve from his research. Maybe a year if other projects caught his interest. He needed to pen a letter to Snape and inform him of his decision. There would be time for all that, now.

Harry sighed, his breath ghosting over the foggy glass. It beaded and dripped, cutting a river through the condensation. Through it, if he squinted, he could see the grey grass outside. He needed to make a clean break of his research and keep more sociable hours. Even if he did continue to research in his down-time, he needed to have a routine of sleeping, eating and socialising at appropriate hours. As for Draco –there would be more than enough time to indulge in one another after the full moon had waned.

At least, he hoped so.  


 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

Staring down at the two almost-naked men on the marble slabs, Harry snapped on the black rubber gloves and adjusted his glasses on the end of his nose. The faint whiff of ether wafted from his protective apron and clothes but he tried to fan it away with his hand. The last thing he needed was a searing migraine before the night began.  
Remus was calmly awaiting his dose of the formula.

Draco felt tense, his muscles tight and thick veins standing out like thick vines across his skin. He was biting hard against his gag and his fingers were clenched into tight fists in his restraints, however he avidly averted his grey gaze whenever Harry edged near the marble slab. The whirring of the machines allowed the stifling ambience in the attic to intensify. The candles flickered in the breeze, stirring the remnants of dust into small clouds. The weather was fairly harsh outside the attic’s thin windows. The entire manor creaked, as though it was bowing in the wind.

“Are you sure you want to do this tonight?” Sirius hedged from the corner of the room. Harry glanced over at his godfather; he was ramrod straight and his muscles were just as tightly wound under his thick, brocade coat. He tweaked the corner of his moustache and pressed his lips together. “The weather doesn’t appear to be on your side.”

“I’m aware, Sirius.”

“Storms are not to be taken lightly, Harry.”

He shot the older man a look, but returned to his work of drawing out syringes filled with the potion, ready to pump it into the straining veins of his two patients. He had to think of them as patients, otherwise he would need be forced to look at them as two lams waiting for the slaughter.

So why was he so delighted to wield the axe?

One by one, he slowly injected the solution into their bodies.

Remus took it as calmly as he always did, although the creases around his eyes deepened as he squeezed them shut. Did the new solution burn? Feel hot inside them? He wasn’t completely sure until he turned around to inject Draco. The blonde steadfastly ignored Harry’s presence, the whites of his eyes already bloodshot from the last forty-eight hours. It had been hard for Harry to process the things he’d seen but to have an entire night’s events stolen from you –that left an eerie feeling in his gut.

As he pressed on the plunger, Draco’s veins flushed purple.

A scream strained against the gag.

His head jerked back as he strained against the leather bindings, every muscle angry and red as he fought the solution being forced into his system. His nails dug into the marble, almost scarring the smooth surface. Harry held his breath and forced each syringe into Draco, one by one, until they were all drained and tossed aside. He and Sirius then force-fed the two men the potentially lethal concoction and jumped side, ready to flee if the restraints didn’t do their job.

He turned to the shuttered windows and flung them open.

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

_Burning!_

_Such painful burning!_

_Fire in the blood! Tear it out, rip it out!_

_Cut with claws and bite with teeth –taste the blood and clean it –CLEAN IT!_

_Burning in the heart, the mouth, the brain! Icy bones –shifting! Shifting without light!_

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

Sirius pressed Harry deep into an alcove in the kitchens as the howling followed them down the narrow stairs. The two wolves were feral and clawing against the steep, stone steps, the sound of claw on stone setting Harry’s deep on edge as they shut the pantry door firmly in place. His heart was beating a mile a minute. Never before had any of the other formula’s produced such a drastic transformation. They had barely gotten to the kitchen alive!

To witness the breaking and reassembling of bones happening at such speed was enough to make Harry want to vomit.

Shadows flickered under the door.

The heavy sniffing of a beast’s snout tested the air near the door and other various alcoves until a frustrated growl vibrated through the stillness. Sirius had a hand clamped firmly over Harry’s mouth so to stop him from screaming. His palm was clammy, Harry noted, as he breathed heavily through his nose. The padding of thick, meaty paws accompanied by the scraping of claws tossing pots and plates onto the shelves was terrifying; every new crash would make both men jump and cling tighter to one another.

Harry was drenched with sweat. He was sure the beasts would smell him.

They were trapped for what felt like eternity.

However, when the creatures managed to locate the back door and tear it off its hinges, Harry reanimated and scrambled to get free of his godfather’s grasp. Sirius, however, held fast, even winding an arm around Harry’s throat to keep him inside and hidden.

“Sirius, let me go!” he hissed, dragging the man’s arm from his neck.

“If you go out there you’ll be killed!” Sirius spat out in a vicious whisper. He was scared. It showed on his face; his skin was tight and drawn and his lips quivered from where they were pressed a little too firmly.

“I need to go out there!” Harry protested. “If I don’t, we won’t truly know if this has worked!”

“I am not letting you risk your life on a theory!”

Harry ground his teeth together and fought against his godfather, desperately wrenching his arm around until he was able to duck out from the older man and hurry towards the door. “You can’t stop me Sirius! I need to test whether it’s worked! I don’t want to torture them anymore!”

He barely reached the servant’s door when Sirius grabbed him by the collar and slammed his back into a wall. It knocked the air from his lungs but adrenaline pushed back, forcing him to push his godfather aside and run out into the night. Sirius was hot on his heels, his sword already unsheathed as the cold wind whipped against his skin.

 

 

 

Shielding his eyes, Sirius scanned the stonework paving for his godson to no avail. The sky was black and alive; this black clouds rolled hungrily around the moon, letting feeble rays of its silvery light fall down onto the earth below. The grounds stretched out beyond, blending into the darkness as storm clouds gathered overhead. The smell of rain hung in the air. Sirius hurried down through the stone balconies and the ornate, dormant fountain, scanning the deep shadows for any sign of movement.

His heartbeat was loud in his ears.

The wind howled ruthlessly around him, making him deaf and almost blind to his surroundings.

They must have gone towards the lawns that backed out onto the moorlands. Sirius felt his stomach twist and sink; if they had managed to fight their way out onto the moorlands, then they were in greater danger than he’d originally feared. Brandishing his sword, he flew down the stone steps and across the manicured lawns, his shrewd eyes scanning the trees and shrubbery for anything remotely beast-like. He needed to find Harry and get him back inside the manor. There they would be safe. The surrounding villages would suffer and he would deal with them first thing in the morning.

For now, Harry was a priority.

As he came to a stop before the tall fence, he had no difficulty in seeing the large hole through which one of the creature’s had forced through. A roll of thunder overheard cast an ominous boom that echoed for miles around as he climbed up and over the fence, his trousers snagging on the splintered planks. Sirius ground his teeth together, training his eyes on the moorlands; nothing was still as the window continued to bow the branches of the trees and ripple through the grass at rapid intervals. It meant tracking the brutes would be nigh impossible!

He couldn’t call out to Harry.

Any noise would alert the wolves to his presence.

He was keenly aware that if they wished to attack him, a bit of thunder and rain would hardly diminish their chances of ambushing him in the dark. He was as blind as a bat, with only his sword to defence himself against two deadly animals. Still, what choice did that leave him with?

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

Harry regretted running off almost immediately.

The air was bitter and clawing at him whichever way he turned. Thunder roared overheard, making him deaf to any impending attacks and the darkness blinded him despite the faint rays of moonlight that pierced through the clouds. Rain was imminent, which meant he needed to decide on his next course of action. He already tracked the beasts this far however he had lost sight of them once he’d clambered awkwardly through the broken fence. Hunching over, he clenched his jaw tightly as he scanned the moorlands for any signs of a large, black hulking figure.

A growl made him jump.

It wasn’t nearby, he determined after turning in panicked circles, his heart in his throat. It must have echoed over the hilltops as it so often did. Another roar of thunder made it difficult to trace what direction the growl had come from. He was left to deduce purely on instinct.

‘ _Turn back_!’ his brain urged fearfully. ‘ _No good will come of this!_ ’

“I have to try,” he spat to himself. “No one else can determine the results!”

Squinting behind his glasses, Harry fought against the wind and the tall, unruly grass as it knotted around his ankles. The work needed to be done, tested, and completed. The stubborn lies he told himself would, quite literally, be the death of him. He _needed_ to know. Untangling himself, he took large steps down a hillside and into a low valley. Nothing stirred, except the rippling of the grass.

The air smelled damp.

Then, something hot rushed over the top of his head.

Harry froze on the spot, his insides screaming for him to run whilst his body shut down in fear. It felt like his heart wanted to leap out of his chest. His stomach tried to crawl up his throat and his bowels were daring to evacuate themselves. Harry swallowed thickly. Turning slowly, Harry craned his neck upwards to take in the sight before him; a werewolf stood at around eight feet high, its metallic gold eyes searing through the darkness and burning him from the inside out. Harry would smell the damp fur covering its body and could see the glint of his teeth.

There was no way to determine which wolf this was.

He almost wished he’d had the nerve to collar or tag them, as though they _were_ merely specimens to him.

He panted heavily, his insides quaking with fear. Which wolf was this? Draco of Remus? There was no way to tell; when changed they both had the same metallic eyes, the tall, svelte frame covered in a thick matted grey fur that was sleek until they were let loose to roam and hunt as they saw fit.

“Which one are you?” he breathed.

The beast huffed, barring its fangs in a predatory manner.

Its nostrils flared, tasting Harry’s fear on the air.

He wanted to take a step back, move, but he felt completely rooted to the spot.

Heart drumming in his ears, he hesitated before looking the salivating beast in the eye. A tremor ran through him. “Remus,” he spoke as clearly as he could but his voice betrayed his fear. “Is that you?”

The beast snarled and snapped its jaws.

Okay, not Remus then.

“Draco,” he tried the name in relation to the brute before him. The name resounded of elegance and poise, it had nothing to do with the hulking figure with razor sharp teeth leering over him. Still, he needed to try. Sweat poured through his skin and soaked his clothes. His tongue felt swollen. “Draco it’s me, Harry,” he tried again. He braved a step closer. The lycan snarled deeply, the sound vibrating through the air. “It’s Harry!” he tried again. “Please remember me.”

A deeper growl.

“Please?” he urged, tears of fear burning up in his arms. “You have to remember me!”

The beast cocked its head to one side, its long snout quivering over its fangs. One of its ears twitched whenever Harry spoke, but he didn’t tell if that was a sign of recognition or if it was an animal instinct. A series of small whimpers came from the creature’s throat. Each sound spiked Harry’s blood pressure.  
The creature threw his head back and howled.

It was a long, loud, brutal sound.

It rang out over the moorlands, a fearsome warning for anything and everything living to stay away.

“Harry!”

Both heads turned to the top of the hill. The vague silhouette of Sirius stood on the mount, the silver of his sword flashing in the faint moonlight. The wolf lunged onto all-fours, snapping its powerful jaws and flashing its teeth to warn Sirius off. The man was not so easily deterred. He whipped his sword through the air and took several steps down the hillside earning another howl from the wolf. Suddenly, another hulk of slim muscled limbs and grey fur pounded through the high grass, charging straight for Sirius.

“Sirius look out!”

Lightning flashed through the sky.

The roar of thunder wasn’t loud enough to drown out the howl as the blade struck the other wolf. Harry backed up a step as the lycan nearest to him still hunched down low to the ground, ready to pounce should he be called upon. As much as Harry wanted to aid his godfather, he had no weapon and was trapped. Whilst both creatures were distracted, Harry turned on his heel and ran.

 

 

 

 

 

The heavens split open and poured a torrent of rain down over the moors. It flooded through the tree roots and created small lakes in the tall grass. Cowering down within a small copse of shrubbery down the other side of a nearby hill, Harry shivered violently as the rain cascaded down his shirt and soaked through the rest of his clothes. He could barely see through his glasses. His extremities were growing numb and he was desperate to get back to the manor. However, getting away from the ferocious beast had been his number one priority.

His chest heaved as he tried to gather enough breath in his lungs to blow warm air onto his quaking hands. It did nothing. His stomach contracted with pain. The water was rushing through the grass and he could feel the dirty water dribbling into his shoes. Thunder growled through the sky. Whenever the lightning flashed through the clouds, Harry squinted in the moment of brightness, trying to keep an eye out for the lycan’s. He had no idea if Sirius was dealing with Remus, and had no knowledge if Draco had stayed to help his werewolf companion or if he had sought Harry out.

The silence from Sirius set him on edge.

Another shudder wrecked his body.

‘ _I need to get back!_ ’ he thought desperately, his very skull freezing. ‘ _Even if I have to crawl there!_ ’

Unwinding his arms from around his knees, he pressed his hands into the sodden ground, gritting his teeth as the ice set in. Dragging his knees underneath him, he slowly crawled away from the camouflage of the shrubs. Wind whipped and cut across his skin. It felt like someone was drawing razors over his skin, over and over. It burned and stung. Rain spilled into his eye. He ducked his head and tried his best to focus on the ground beneath him. He strained his ears to keep track of any approaching wolves but all he could hear was the rain.

He was almost over the top of the first hill when a snarl made him flinch. Before he could stand up and run, something sharp gripped his ankle and dragged him down on his belly.

He watched the hilltop rush away from his fingers, his screams making his throat raw.

“Let me go!” he cried out, not caring if the beast ripped his leg off. “Let me go, please!”

A clawed hand grabbed the back of his shirt, hauling him up. Nails dug deep into his skin. He was dragged kicking and grappling for his life until he came to a dip in the valley, the sudden shelter from a copse of trees making him gasp for air. He didn’t know of any trees on the moorlands near the estate.

‘ _We must be so far from home …_ ’ he thought despondently.

He was thrown bodily onto a drier patch of earth. He barely had time to groan in pain before the weight of the beast dropped over him on all fours, the long, wet snout snuffling along his clothes and throat. Harry felt his heart freeze in his throat. He couldn’t breathe. So this was how it ended? In the middle of the moors where no one would find his body? If there was even a body to find.

“Mah –Mah –Mi-ine …”

Harry stilled. Was that … a word? Had the creature just … spoken? Turning his head ever-so-slowly, Harry trained his blurry vision on the daemon before him. It hadn’t changed much, from what he could tell; the fur was still thick and grey, the eyes were still a piercing gold and the fangs were sharp against pulled back lips –but the snout –was it shorter? More human? And the ears; had they shrunken in size? 

Licking his lips Harry quietly whispered, “D-Draco?” His voice was drowned out by the rain. “Draco is that you?”

The jaws snapped down at him, close enough that he was sure if he hadn’t flinched away, his nose would have been ripped off. His heart hammered against his ribs. It ached too much and his body was freezing. He couldn’t feel his toes or his fingers.

“Mah-ah-ine!” the creature growled, the noise thundering in Harry’s bones. “Hah-Hah-Ree …”

“Yes!” he gasped out, pressing himself down into the wet mud. “Yes, it’s me, Draco! It’s me, Harry!”

The beast shook its head, the gold eyes confused and feral. It snapped its jaws experimentally but didn’t lunge for him. Deep guttural pants came from the lycan as he hunched over Harry’s tense body. He didn’t want to push his luck when it came to communicating, however a tremor of excitement ran into his system; he had managed to create a formula that enabled some part of the lycan brain to remember its human memories –or at least _start_ to. This was ground-breaking!

“Draco if you can hear me,” he tried again, making sure to be heard over the pouring rain beyond their canopy. “Let me go. You _need_ to let me go.”

The werewolf whimpered and cocked its head to the side, regarding Harry pinned underneath him. Harry stared up boldly into those eyes; it was a sign of defiance in the animal kingdom to look an alpha in the eye, and that was no different to the challenge he had unwittingly presented now. However … Something about those gold eyes … He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He felt like he was being drawn into them, as though the rain, the numbness and the pain faded far into the background.

The wolf arched its back and howled.

Just like that, it’d snapped back into being nothing more than a feral beast.

Harry became all too aware in that moment just how vulnerable he was.

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

_Wet –so wet! Mud and water and dirt in the fur, the claws, the eyes!_

_Deaf to everything! Can hear the heart._

_The heart, the heart, the heart!_

_Something inside is fighting; fighting the moon, bringing him back! Bringing the skin and the hair and the eyes. The legs and lips and teeth! Such flat teeth!_

_Moon cracks through the dark. Burns the skin! Burns the bones! Everything cracking and fighting under the skin._

_Don’t want him back! Don’t let him back! Keep away!_

_Roar! Scare human back inside! Keep him down, down, down, don’t let him out!_

_He wants the prey, human, boy! He wants him safe. No! Tear him, rip him, drink his blood and eat the insides!_

_Drink his blood, drink it down and let it boil inside!_

_Moonlight –white and hot and searing the bones. Ringing in the ears –can’t hear, can’t hear Can sense a presence –not the boy!_

_Something else._

_Something big._

_Something hungry!_


	7. 4th February 1890

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: SCENES OF GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, DISTURBING / GORY IMAGERY, AND SEXUAL CONTENT.

**_~4 th February 1890~_ **

 

 

Harry’s screams were swallowed up by the night.

Every time he opened his mouth to howl for help, a clap of thunder or a bolt of sizzling lightning would drown him out. His body had grown limp, too exhausted from struggling against the beast’s hold, the cold too numbing for him to think clearly. His glasses were gone, lost somewhere in the marshes. They’d have been useless to him anyway. He had been dragged through the soaked mud under a canopy. It strained the rain that beat down hard and heavy against his skin to a fine drizzle.

He could feel the beast panting; its hot, heavy breath an almost welcomed change to the blistering cold.

Deep in the recesses of his mind, he was screaming for Sirius to find him and rescue him. However, his voice was paralysed as those gaping, black jaws opened and snapped too close to his face, the coarse hair grazing his skin. Through the drizzle, he heard and felt the strain of the fabric being torn from his body. The rush of rain on his chest made him gasp loudly. It was like swallowing a lump of ice. A heavy meaty paw pummelled him back flat on the earth, a threatening snarl in his ears. He dug his nails into the sloppy mud.

The creature continued to claw and rip at his clothing. More often than not one of the claws could rip at Harry’s skin. He barely surprised the cries of pain, earning growls that only grew in volume. Every touch sent fear spiking through his heart. He was sure he’d die of a heart-attack before long.

Another fork of lightning illuminated the sky.

Harry was dimly aware that he was almost naked; the feeble shreds of his clothing doing nothing to mask his naked flesh to the hungry, devilish eyes leering down at him.

‘ _This is it_ …’ he thought fearfully, ‘ _this is how I am to die. Paralysed and naked in the moors_.’

He would be buried without a body.

The very thought made him sick.

The lycan was sniffing the length of his body, experimentally running its wide, hot tongue over his frozen limbs. For a mad moment, Harry yearned for more of that warmth, only flinching straight after at the implications of what that meant. If only he had the strength to fight back, perhaps he’d have a chance for freedom?

He screamed as red hot pain cracked through him.

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

The shrill sound cut through the air just as Sirius dealt another threatening blow to the hunched over grey beast. It cowered before him, yellow fangs barred and dripping blood from a recent kill. ‘ _Please God let it be one of the local dogs_ ,’ flashed through his mind as he cut his sword through the air, guilt tearing through him whenever a fresh, bloody gash glowed in the moonlight.

He loathed to use brute force.

However, the threatening burn of his silver sword was enough to deter the lycan for a time. He’d even taking to soaking it in aconite every few days to make its effects more potent.

Another scream tore through the air.

Through the dimness of the night, Sirius saw the creature’s ears twitch forward, localising on the sound. He couldn’t have that. There was no way he could protect Harry from the wrath of two aggressive werewolves. Casting one more look at the wounded beast before him, Sirius threw a solution of stewed aconite leaves at the beast, before fleeing through the blackness. He prayed the rain would mask his scent. A howl erupted from behind him, but he didn’t look back. He needed to get to Harry.  
The sodden earth made it difficult to run; he fell into waterlogged ditches, sinking down up to his knees in the filth. One of his shoes became dislodged in the scurry to climb out onto firmer ground. Using his sword, he managed to claw his way out onto higher grassland, before straining his eyes through the rain for any sign of his godson.

Nothing.

The rain masked everything from view.

A deep, guttural howl came from over the next hillside.

He hurried through the darkness, water splashing up his thighs and over his coat as he unsheathed his sword, ready to attack as soon as he saw the creature. The land below him was vast and black. Ripples of silver ran through whenever a breeze blew, forcing water into his eyes. An answering howl came from somewhere behind him, but it was fairly far away. Perhaps the downpour was rendering the lycan blinded too?

He could only hope.

Cautiously, Sirius made his way down the slope, straining his eyes and ears against the rain for any sign of his godson and the other werewolf. It was had to navigate in almost total darkness, however somehow his feet finally found flatter, wetter earth. It was like the ground was trying to swallow him as he manoeuvred towards the shrill noises that would be heard from the dark copse of fledgling trees.

‘ _We’re a long way from the manor_ ,’ he thought as he kept his eyes peeled for any sign of movement. ‘ _It’s going to be a struggle getting the boy home like this._ ’

A tremor ran down his spine.

He must’ve think like that. He’d sworn to do whatever was in his power to keep the boy safe. He needed to keep his word no matter what.

Sirius tightened his grip on his sword and continued advancing towards the trees.

The whimpering and snarls were getting louder now.

Visions of Harry barely conscious and being devoured alive, watching as the creature swallowed his entrails before his very eyes –it was a harrowing thought. No one should ever have to die that way. Bile rushed up Sirius’ mouth and he spat it out onto the ground, feeling cold settle in his stomach as he stepped under the canopy, sword brandished to attack.

As he shifted some of the branches to get a better vantage point, Sirius almost dropped his sword at what he saw.

Harry was in nothing but tattered shreds of clothing. His blue-tinged body was lacerated with numerous cuts and –he prayed they weren’t –bite marks. Rain had splattered his body with dirt and plastered his hair to his face. His glasses were gone. Somewhere through being dragged halfway through the wilderness he’d split his lip open, his chin soaked red with blood.

Despite this, and the below freezing temperatures, he was alive.

Relief barely rose in Sirius, until he took in the rest of the scene before him. Anger boiled in his veins but he could barely move; frozen to the spot in both fear for his godson’s life and his own.

Leaning over Harry’s feverish body, was the second werewolf. It was positioned on all fours, thrusting its pelvis at a frantic pace. It took a moment for Sirius to take-in the entire scene to its full extent –almost felt disgust and anger rush through him. However, any frantic moments would mean instant death for his godson. He felt forced to watch as the creature buried itself deep inside the young man’s body, its tail whipping the ground with heavy thumps as he dragged Harry closer and closer, never breaking rhythm as he salivated over its prey.

For his part, Harry seemed catatonic to the events; the only sounds he gave out were sharp cries of pain –it truly was pain, wasn’t it? Sirius didn’t think he had the mental capacity to believe anything else. Even in spite of the brief moments where it looked as though Harry’s eyes were willingly rolling back into his head, the ghost of a pleasurable smile gracing his lips –until a his legs were wrenched wider apart or a claw sunk into his thighs.  
The creature was urgent, desperate, eager to gets its fill regardless of the damage it inflicted. It was a tragic fact of the animal kingdom. Sirius had seen it many a time; males would mate aggressively, regardless of their chosen targets preferences or resistance.

Not that Harry seemed to be resisting.

A deep growl brought Sirius back to the moment with a crash.

The creature arched its grey back, its muzzle pressing over Harry’s chest and neck, coating its fur in a thin sheen of fresh bloody. Sirius could almost feel the skin of rain and saliva on the wounds. He tried to move his legs, but even his sword-arm barely responded to his brain.

Gripping the hilt tighter, Sirius swept the branch aside. “Get away from my godson!”

The creature whipped its head around, a clawed paw digging into Harry’s abdomen as it snarled at Sirius, barring its yellow fangs. Sirius flinched; for a brief moment, it had looked like a daemonic hybrid –a grotesque blend of Draco and this snarling beast. Dislodging the thought, Sirius stepped forward, cutting his sword through the air. Before he could even strike at the beast, however, another presence bounded through the undergrowth and into the clearing.

The other wolf.

Fear shot through him as he eyed first one and then the other.

However, the creature snapped its jaws back at the intruding lycan, dragging its body the length of Harry’s to better snarl and bite at the other beast. Harry was dragged up through the mud, his knees being bent back towards his shoulders. A cry was muffled against his chest. A large arm swiped under him, forcing his back to arch down deep onto the creature’s erection. His face contorted with pain as he grappled for purchase to no avail. Panic was setting in, the only emotion his mind could register in his current state.

The two beasts snapped their jaws at one another, growling and trying to display a show of dominance. However, whenever the intruding creature tried to weave underarm and take a swipe at Harry, the werewolf would lash out, dragging Harry deeper under its belly as a form of protection. Perhaps he just wasn’t done spewing his seed.

Another swipe, caught the remnant of Harry’s shirt and dragged him out into the open air. He cried out as he was forcibly removed from the werewolf’s erection, bloody slathered over his thighs. The second lycan sniffed around at him, its thin lips twitching back over its fangs as it tossed Harry over and tried to mount him. Harry had barely been pushed into the dirt before the werewolf attacked its old companion-turned-intruder. It bowled the second wolf over into the mud, pinning it down and roaring into its face, snarling and displaying every single fang.

However, the intruding lycan was not easily deterred.

As the two grappled for dominance, Sirius hurried as stealthily as he could to his godson’s aid. Even in the darkness the damage was worse up-close. There wasn’t an inch of skin that wasn’t scratched, bruised or stained.

“Good God we need to get you back to the house!” he snapped, as he hauled the barely conscious boy to his feet.

Harry staggered and fell into the mud. He spat out grass and a mouthful of blood. His arms quaked as he tried to raise himself up and failed. “It’s no use, Sirius,” he whimpered mournfully, “I … I’m too w-weak …”

“Harry, we need to go now!”

“I can’t!”

Sirius pursed his lip and, despite himself sheathed his sword. He dragged Harry further away from the clearing before bending down and stiffly getting the younger man hauled onto his back. He was too heavy, the ground too wet and the air too cold. The elements were working against them every step of the way, but Sirius pushed on. The ground caused him to sink down beyond his knees, his other shoe lost to the bogs as he forced one foot in front of the other. He didn’t know where he was; the rain and the wind were disorientating at the best of times. He needed to get to the top of a hill and go from there.

Harry clung tightly to his neck, a dead-weight as the cold crept into his mind.

Sirius tried to focus, his breath rising in white clouds before him.

The hills were steep, the incline almost painful as he pushed upwards. He clung to Harry’s wet skin and ground his teeth together, all the while straining his ears for any sign of the approach of the two werewolves. He slipped near the top, his feet losing purchase and causing him to slide down through the wet grass. He almost lost his grip on Harry and thanked God that he managed to hold on. If he’d lost sight of Harry in the dark grass, he’d have no hope of finding him until the morning. Perhaps not even then.

Finally, he’d reached the summit of the first hill.

The manor was still a faint suggestion in the background, the barely visible lights flickering in the windows could have been nothing more than a will-o'-the-wisp.

Rain clung to everything and even seeped into his mouth as he panted for air. He was winded but had managed to stave off any injuries in his fight with the lycan. He knew it was Remus but when in this particular form, ‘ _Remus’_ was merely a man he once knew. The beast had been less wild the previous evening however the formula he’d received tonight had done nothing to abate his aggressive lycanthropic urges.

Shaking the thoughts away, Sirius adjusted his position on Harry’s unconscious body. He needed to get the lad inside as soon as possible before anything else happened to him. With the light of the manor in front of him, guiding him back, Sirius took a deep breath and slithered down the other side of the hill. The more distance he was able to put between themselves and the lycans, the better.  


 

 

~0~

 

 

_Marked! It’s marked! Traitor … Intruder … Get out, out, OUT!_

_Isn’t yours._

_Cold mud and hot blood, running rain over mate …_

_Intruder, intruder wants the chosen mate. Bite his eyes and rip him, tear him, kill …_

_Kill, Kill, KILL!_

_Wait …_

_Familiar?_

_Fur, eyes, teeth, skin? Why the skin? Wolf skin? Human fur?_

_Madness!_

_Cold moon burning like hot ice in the veins and the stomach. Ringing in the ears! Make it go away!_

_Howl it away! Scare it off, then find the mate._

_Howl!_

_Howl!_

_Kill the moon then kill the friend! Howl, kill, howl, howl, howl!_

 

 

~0~

 

 

The howling echoed throughout the moorlands, evening rising up into the clouds, just as Sirius staggered into the paved courtyard with the weight of his godson finally crippling him. Harry landed onto the flagstones with a heavy thump and Sirius prayed he was unconscious enough not to notice any broken bones until they’d been set properly. Fear caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up on end. It would not take the werewolves long to cross the moorlands to get back to the estate.

With a final surge of adrenaline, Sirius hauled Harry across the courtyard towards the oaks doors that led into the kitchens –the very ones they had fled through earlier. It had felt like a life-time ago. Steeling himself, Sirius dragged his godson inside, lying him down on the cold stone floor so that he could barricade themselves inside. It took a great deal of effort to move the oak table towards the doors. It took a lot longer than he had hoped, for he could hear the howling drawing closer. There was no time to light any candles, either, so Sirius had to navigate his way through the servants’ quarters, whilst carrying his grown godson in his arms, in total darkness.

He took the stairs as slowly as he dared, sweat prickling on his skin as it mingled with the rainwater. He drew deep breaths in with his nose, trying not to so much as breathe too heavy. He lost his footing a few times as he’d lost both shoes and his bare feet were numbed with cold. By the time had had made it to the ground floor, he was a feverish, sweating wreck of a man. Yet, there was still another staircase to mount before either of them would be remotely ‘safe’.

 

He didn’t want to think of how long it took to get Harry back to one of the nearest bedchambers. He dropped his godson onto the bed-sheets and clambered noisily around the furniture as warmth began to ebb back into his numb muscles, enabling him to lose control in frantic spasms. With great effort, Sirius managed to bank a fire and light it with his shaking fingers. He trembled feverishly as he peeled his sodden clothes off of his body, shivering as the cool draught brought the night air seeping into his bones. The whole house was secure, however, Sirius took one extra precaution and forced himself to manoeuvre a bureau in front of the chamber door –just in case.

The fire crackled in the grate.

The weak glow it provided was all the aid Sirius required to strip Harry of the rags that still clung to his body like rain-soaked ropes, tossed them into a wet heap on the floor, and leave him to adjust to the rooms temperature whilst he padded the hearthrug with blankets, throws and anything else that would be remotely warm. His limbs had warmed up significantly by now and he could even move his fingers individually without pain shooting through his palms. Padding over to the bed, Sirius took his godson’s limp body in his arms, wincing at the lacerations marring his flesh, and gently eased him down into the nest he’d made. Swaddling the young man in layers of thick velvet’s and wool, Sirius wrapped another blanket around himself before curling close to his godson’s side. They’d need as much warmth as they could get if there was any hope of waking up in the morning.

Placing a hand to Harry’s chest, Sirius forced himself to remain calm as he searched for a pulse.

There!

It was faint, ever so faint, but it was there!

Relief formed a lump in his throat as all the emotions that he’d refused to feel through the last few hours surged to the surface. Gripping Harry tighter, Sirius let his own cries of anguish mingle with the howls that echoed in from the grounds below.

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

_Lights scattered and flashed before his eyes. First it was dizzying and then –blackness. The darkness itself seemed to suck the air out of his lungs. When he looked up, there was Draco, but not as he knew him._

_This Draco was over eight feet tall and covered in fine, grey-blonde hair. His pearly pink nails were far too long and razor sharp to the touch._

_His perfectly human lips pulled back over too many fangs that could not fit in his mouth._

_When his spoke, his words gushed out in a raw that vibrated inside his skull._

_His jaw unhinged, flashing the teeth, advancing nearer. The clawed hands reached out through the darkness, the nails grazing through his skin ready to slice –_

 

 

~0~

 

 

His eyelids felt like lead weights. He could feel the cold morning air snaking through the folds of his blankets and even sneaking down his throat, leaving his insides icy. There was a warm weight holding him down in what felt like a possessive way. There were too many blankets piled on top of him. It hurt to breathe. Opening his eyes, a blurry image of red tartan filled his vision. Turning his head, cold air hit his cheek. There was a close-up image of a thick, dark beard. Then the rhythm of someone else’s chest breathing against his back.

What was going on?

Where was he?

What had happened last night?

As if signalled, the bruises, welts, sprained muscles and lacerations sung to life, everything burned with fire and ice and pain. Suddenly the pressure on his chest felt a million times worse. His eyes burned from where he’d been facing the fire all night. Said fire had simmered down to nothing but a few red embers dotted around the mounds of grey ash. Everything else, aside from those embers, was cold and hard, bruising his already battered body. Even the back of his head felt swollen with pressure, as though the very blood had clotted into a vacuous lump beneath his skull plates.

Groaning, he clenched his eyes shut and squeezed.

He took a few moments to catch his breath, burrowing deeper under the blankets and tried wriggling each of his extremities. The pain he felt, working his frozen muscles, was enough to set his teeth on edge.

Rolling onto his back he forced his eyes open and stared up at the ceiling.

The pressure on his chest made every breath painful. He wanted to sit up but whenever he moved his head, stabbing dizziness shot through him. Sirius shifted in the bundle of blankets, allowing him the freedom to force his arms underneath his body and push himself upwards. Drawing in deep breaths he rose to his feet, his legs quaking. Dragging the blanket with him to ward off the chill, Harry hobbled over to the bed where some cleaner clothes had been strewn the previous night.  
Raising his arms any higher than shoulder level was a strain.

There was no way to tell how long it took him just to get his thick cotton shirt over his head, but by the time he’d laced the ties to his throat, the sun was rising over the moorlands. He groaned as he settled on the edge of the bed to claw on a pair of trousers. They felt tight and rough against the oozing welts on his muscles, but there was no time to dress his wounds. Not yet. He needed to go out and find Draco and Remus. It had been a traumatic night for all involved; the sooner he got to them the sooner they could all bathe, soak their wounds and put all this insanity behind them –at least for the following month.

“Harry?”

Freezing in the dim light, Harry turned his head and peered over his shoulder. Sirius’ bulk was shifting upright in the mound of blankets. He groaned as he moved, his own body marred with scars both old and new, and fresh bruises that looked black as coal against his pale flesh.

Harry snapped his head away, not wanting to look upon his godfather’s nudity.

Upon seeing that Harry had moved from the hearth to the large bed, Sirius determined that his godson was, at least, able-bodied. With that in mind, he staggered over to where his own tattered clothes had been left to dry. Together they gingerly pulled their clothes on, wincing and hissing in pain through the dimness of the dawn light.

 

 

The entire manor was devoid of sound and heat. Harry felt as though he were walking through a living nightmare; his bones quaked beneath his frigid flesh, his teeth chattering so hard he tasted blood. Sirius helped support him as they made their way towards the entrance hall, his own cane skidding and slipping on the marble tiles. Harry felt the temperature drop further as he braced himself against the wall, letting Sirius fasten his cloak around his throat. It provided little shelter from the draught racing through the halls. The only thought on his mind was that they needed to go out and find Remus and Draco. Judging by the haunted shadows flitting over his godfather’s face, Sirius had thought of nothing else since before falling unconscious last night.

“Are you ready?” Sirius asked, his voice like gravel.

Harry swallowed the thick lump in his throat and nodded. Sirius bent down on his good knee, letting Harry swing his least wounded arm around his neck before straightening up. Harry cringed. Sirius slipped his free arm beneath Harry’s cloak and held him tight before opening the large oak door.

A gust of wind rushed in.

Harry mentally braced himself as they hobbled out into the hostile environment.

 

 

 

 

Harsh currents of wind rippled through the knee-high grass. The landscape was bleak and miserable; all the colours were muted and almost grey in colour, the sky a churning sea of pale grey clouds. Any trees that cropped up were gnarly, their crooked branches reaching down and clawing at their cloaks and hair. Their boots sank into the sodden ground, the rainwater rising up and dripping through the worn leather as they clambered toward the end of the manor’s gardens.

The hole in the wall had never looked so ominous.

The untamed grasslands beyond were peppered with rotting tree trunks, boulders caked in moss and large areas of seemingly barren earth, which were really sink-holes. Harry’s insides churned at the thought of how many skeletons a singular one contained. They pressed on. With each hundred meters they travelled, the more Harry became convinced that the bleak, Scottish moors had finally swallowed up his black secrets, letting the death of his friend and lover leech the burden of guilt from around his neck.

His ankle rolled as they reached the top of the first hill.

Sirius grabbed him tightly, balancing their weight so they didn’t fly headfirst into the bog. Panting, Harry gingerly allowed himself to be seated on a nest of rotting tree roots. The stench of wet wood clawed as his senses. “Are you alright?” Sirius asked, his calm voice a bellow that cut through the suffocating silence.

Harry nodded mutely, his heart still racing.

“Do you want to press on?”

“We don’t have much choice,” he replied with a blank expression. He turned his listless eyes towards his godfather. “If we do not find them first, we will not be responsible for what becomes of them.”

Sirius clenched his jaw tightly. Yes, he knew how narrow-minded the people in the small villages could be like. Hell, he knew was allegedly civil-minded people in the cities could be like. None of which deemed any good to the werewolves currently let loose in the countryside. “Indeed,” he muttered, wiping at his dry mouth. The leather crackled as he clenched his fist and slammed it on the withered tree. “Damnit! How could we become so careless?!”

Harry flinched at the tone but didn’t dare argue.

“We had one job, Harry. One job! And we’ve failed!”

There was heat in his head for sure, but he was too ashamed of himself to let the tears fall. Despite the aggression and manner of last night’s transgressions, he hadn’t been opposed to the feel of –

“I suppose it was going to happen sooner or later. We were bound to become lax in our responsibilities to them.”

Harry frowned. “To whom? The villagers?”

“Good God man, no!” Sirius snapped. “Remus and Draco! They have been entrusted into our care and look what’s happened!”

“I’d say the stunts you two pulled in London were just as ghastly,” the young man bit out acidly. “If it hadn’t been for your desperate need to cover the tracks of a werewolf you’d let loose in the city, not only would we not be here, but Draco would not have been bitten at all!”

They glowered at one another.

Their breath rose in the thin fog clinging to the hillside.

Dew from the grass soaked through their worn shoes.

Sirius straightened, a mask of cool hostility resting over his face. “Very well. I see where we stand to one another.”

Harry sighed, his head dropped into his hands. “I apologise. We’re overwrought; this is not a situation that occurs often.” He sighed again, his eyes looking out over the moorlands. “We cannot fight amongst ourselves any longer. We need to find Remus and Draco and bring them home. No more experiments, no more formulas. If this answer was meant to be found, then it will present itself.”

Sirius turned his back on his godson. The remarks had stung, wounding him deeper than Remus had ever managed. Bile burned the back of his throat and he spat onto the ground.

A hand snatched at his sleeve.

Sirius spun, ready to strike Harry away from him when he caught sight of the younger man’s expression.

“Do you hear that?” Harry hissed, his features frozen in shock.

Sirius strained but could hear nothing beyond his own breathing. “What is it?”

Black brows knitting together, Harry desperately tried to focus on the unnatural noise echoing through the fog. “I think –it sounds like a person … calling out.”

“What are they saying?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry bit his lip. “But under these circumstances, it can only be one of two people.”

“Do you know which direction it came from?”

“I th-think so.”

“Then we must hurry. Time is precious!”

 

 

 

It took them nearly an hour to cover any real ground considering how sodden the terrain had become overnight. The fog was burned away by the sun climbing higher and higher in the sky, yet there had been no sign of either Remus or Draco. Sirius was beginning to feel desperate to finding his companion. He knew Harry felt the same in regards to Draco, at least that’s what the death grip around his neck told him. Together they hobbled, using one another –and the cane –for support as much as possible.

The calling had been infrequent and for a time had stopped altogether. Harry had had a blood-chilling moment where he feared whomever had been calling, has succumbed to their wounds or fatigue and thus, would be unable to locate them. However, just as he was about to give up, the calling –weak and straining –had begun again.  
It had gotten a little easier from that point on however trying to locate a single person in the wilderness was proving a challenge.

For his part, Harry was beginning to feel physically ill. The manor was nowhere in sight behind them and he could see nothing but grass and barren trees and hillsides for miles in either direction. If he hadn’t been so tense he would have admired the amount of distance a werewolf could cover in the space of several hours. He was sweating profusely, clinging to his godfather to keep upright. His insides were cramping with hunger and sickness.

“There!” Sirius shouted, making the younger man lurch in reaction to the sudden loud noise. “I saw something! In the grass by the copse!”

Digging his nails in, Harry dared not breathe. “Did you see who is was?” he hissed.

“No –however, where one wolf is, the other cannot be far off.”

Harry bit his lip, not wanting to dwell on the logic. He adjusted his grip and allowed Sirius to take charge of the pace. The man would run if he hadn’t had Harry attached to his hip or a cane. The grass stung as they rushed through towards the small patch of trees. Their branches were barren and provided no shelter from last night’s storm. Near the edge of the copse a pair of quaking pale legs jutted out like sun-bleached tree roots. The filthy, naked man was shaking violently, his breathing laboured as Sirius removed his overcoat and draped it over his body. Matted blonde hair stuck to Draco’s skull, his teeth were gleaming red with blood. It looked as though he’d landed face-first against a rock, perhaps, though the blood had dried some time ago.

Harry crawled toward him, his own wounds screaming.

Draco was alive. That was all his brain could process as he knelt over the pale man before him. This time there were no elongated ears, the misshapen jaw or the fangs splintering out of a human mouth; Draco was now completely human.

Threading his arms through the coat sleeves, Draco curled in on himself, bowing his head to the wind and began to cry. It wasn’t the dignified sniff either man was used to, as they watched the blonde howl, face flaring red and tears cutting tracks through the dirt on his cheeks. He howled on and on until his voice cracked and he choked. Harry reached out to touch him but Draco pushed him aside. Sirius swept in at that moment and grabbed the lapels and dragged Draco upright, forcing him onto his thin legs.

“Where’s Remus?” he barked.

Draco choked on more tears, his toes curling into the dirt as he shook his head helplessly.

“Stop sobbing like a pansy, boy, and tell me where he is?!”

“Sirius he doesn’t know!”

Narrowing his eyes, the older man stared into the blonde’s eyes, daring him to lie. “Is that true?” he asked, keeping his voice deceptively calm. “Do you not know where Remus is?”

Silence.

“IS IT TRUE, BOY?!”

“N-no!” Draco cried out. More tears leaked out. “I -I’m s-sorry … I-it wasn’t meant to h-happen –”

Sirius didn’t care. He tossed the blonde man to the ground. He wasn’t worth his time. Stepping over Draco’s prone figure, Sirius marched out of the trees and glared out over the moorlands, willing the grass to direct him to Remus. Behind him, Harry was trying to placate the blonde man, to no avail. It had been a harrowing night. However, none of it mattered until they located Remus. Cupping his hands around his mouth he called, “REMUS! REMUS!”

No reply.

He gripped his cane tighter and turned toward the two young men behind him. Draco was huddled in his overcoat, looking meek and pathetic. Harry was battered and bruised beside him, looking angry. “You two stay here. I’m going to look for Remus.”

“Let us come with yo –”

“I said ‘stay here’,” Sirius snapped. “I’m going to look for Remus _alone_.”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

He simply turned away from them and marched on.

 

 

 

 

Sweat beaded across his brow as he swiped a handkerchief across his dry mouth. It had been wrong to set-out on this man-hunt without any food or water. He had just been in such a desperate state to get Remus back into the safety of the manor so that they could put this whole nightmare behind them. True, things had been calmer since moving out of London. Fewer whores to butcher in the early hours of the morning just to make sure that no one knew a werewolf had been lurking in their midst.

However, the wilderness provided its own challenges.

There had been a tremor running up and down his bad leg for the last half an hour and at last he decided to stop. Sitting down heavily on a mouldy rock, Sirius stretched his swollen, tight muscles out and tried to breathe through the pain shooting up his muscles. He rolled up his trouser leg and hissed in pain; the mangled flesh exposed to the weak sunlight was as grotesque as he remembered. Ribbons of veins and scar tissue tangled in a web of flesh that pulled tight and uneasy across was remained of his muscle. Despite the pain and aggression with which he reacted to having the wound, he had known deep down the Remus had not meant to injure him.

It had been his temporary nature.

Sirius liked to think he’d forgive the lycan, though there were times he doubted himself.

Like now, for instance, he contemplated just how easy it would be to return to the others and aid them back to the manor. Remus would starve to death, eventually, on the moors and the earth would reclaim his remains. No one would even come looking for him.

A chill ran down his spine.

No, he was not that sort of man anymore.

He was as responsible for the dead as he was for the living.

Besides, there was too much hurt and memories involved to simply let him faded into nothing.

Adjusting his grip on his cane, Sirius levered himself to his feet, putting his weight on his good leg and resuming his hunt for his companion. He did not have to look far; over the next hillside, the land flattened out into tough, dried earth. The grass was tall, dry and yellow despite the torrential rains. The land had died long ago. However, the man sprawled naked in the weak rays of sunlight was groaning and rasping, very much alive.

With renewed strength, Sirius ran as fast as he could.

The ground made movement tricky, especially with the cane, but adrenaline carried him through.

“Remus!” he called out, relief forcing emotions to choke him as he dropped down onto his knees, pain be damned, and enveloped the scarred man in his arms. He took as much of Remus’s weight against his chest, not wanting his lover touching the cold, hard ground for a moment longer. He instantly regretted leaving his coat with Draco, however he still had a jacket. Though it wasn’t as thick, it’d do. “Thank Heaven I found you,” he breathed into the greying hair, combing it with his rough hands.

Remus looked up with milky gold eyes and choked, blood flecking his white lips. “Sirius …”

“Shh, don’t try and talk. You’re very weak.”

“D-Draco …”

“He’s alive. Well enough. Harry’s with him. Let’s not talk now, we need to get you home.”

Gathering Remus in his arms as much as he was able, Sirius shifted his weight onto his good leg and forced himself up from the ground. It was awkward; despite how thin he was Remus was not light-weight, sweat was pouring out of the man in great quantities that it soaked Sirius’s hands and left them sticky. It was fine. He’d wash when he got in.

“Sirius … Draco … Please …”

“I said not to talk,” Sirius stated firmly, his eyes glazed. “We need to get you home.”

“Sirius?”

A hand on his shoulder made him jump.

He nearly lost his grip on Remus.

Harry and Draco stood beside him, though the blonde fell to his knees instantly.

“How did you find me so fast?” he rasped.

“We followed you,” Harry stated. His bright eyes fell on Remus and they widened, blood draining from his face. “Sirius, look at him. He won’t make it back …”

“It’s just a few scratches and dehydration. He’ll be fine.”

Harry reached out towards Remus. The man looked so small and frail, his gold eyes wise to what was going on. He had a resigned expression on his face. It was then that Harry recognised it; he’d worn that face every month. Now he knew why.

“Sirius please?”

The black-haired man backed away as his godson tried to make a grab for Remus. The man was like a ragdoll in his arms. “Harry, let him be. He’s too weak.”

In the grass, on his haunches, Draco choked on sobs whilst clutching his sides.

“Sirius,” Harry tried to keep his voice calm. It irked Sirius when he tried to sound controlling. He simply didn’t have the authority. “I need you to look at him properly. You know he can’t come back with us. It’s too late for him.”

Rolling his eyes, Sirius looked down at the man clutched pitifully to his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Harry inching closer. That only made him grip Remus tighter.

Then he saw it.

The blood on his hands.

It didn’t connect with what was going on, in his head. Remus had been sweating, he knew that, so where had all the blood come from? Had he scraped his hands against something sharp and only just realised it? It wouldn’t be the first time. Yet … Harry still looked perturbed. Something was amiss.

Settling down onto the ground, Sirius adjusted Remus in his lap. He smoothed the damp hair aside, pursing his lips against the tears as he saw his lover’s eyelids flutter at the action. Swallowing thickly, he peeled back the folds of his jacket. It clung to Remus with congealing blood. He grimaced, but refused to stop. Where there was blood, there were wounds. He closed his eyes and counted to ten. He kept his breathing as calm as he could, despite the cold stab in the air.

Remus was exposed; he had a few deep gashes along his collarbone and a razor fun cut running along his jaw, yet those were superficial. A deep clean with some arsenic and salt water would soon sort that out.

Then he forced his eyes lower.

Two voices howled into the air.

Draco crawled closer, grasping one of Remus’s hands in his own and choking on his anguish. “I-I’m sorry R-Remus!” he cried out.

Before the wounded man could answer, Sirius threw a punch. It caught Draco square on the jaw and sent him sprawling in the mud. It got in his mouth, making his drawl out mud, blood and saliva whilst sobbing.

“YOU DID THIS!” Sirius hollered. “YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM!”

“N-no …” Draco snivelled, holding his hands up to protect himself. “I-I didn’t –”

Another punch forced him head-first into the sludge. He barely drew a breath before there was a weight on the back of his skull. Mud squeezed into his ears, mouth and nose as Sirius pressed down on his head with his boot.

“I could drown you,” he said, tonelessly. “I could do it; I could fucking drown you for what you’ve done.”

A weight kicked his good leg out from under him, sending him into the muck alongside Remus and Draco.

“ENOUGH!” Harry sneered. “This wasn’t Draco’s fault and you know it! How could you do that to him?”

“He’s done this! Look what he’s done!”

Despite himself, Harry looked down at Remus for the first time, and twisted around to vomit stomach acid into the grass. The easily healed wounds were from the shoulders up. It was what was below that could not be repaired; one side of the man’s ribcage had been snapped away, exposing what remained of a weathered, purple lung barely pulsating in the dirt. Blood glistened wetly on the few entrails that were peeking out around the intestines, their long rubbery rope already beginning to unravel in the air. Sunlight made the ribs glow eerily in the daylight. There was also a large cavity here a mound of flesh should have been on the man’s right thigh; not it was hollow and already withering at the edges. The stench was intolerable.

Harry heaved again when he saw the exposed heart shiver and contract.

Small spurts of blood flecked the chalk-white skin.

Distress and panic seemed to envelop Sirius once again. Giving-up on murdering Draco, he gathered Remus into his arms and wept into his hair. His ashen face was almost skeletal in the daylight. Harry couldn’t help but muse how no one had seen such atrocities during the day up till now. He vomited again, landing on all fours.

Sirius clumsily gathered a handful of the slippery innards and tried to press them back into the gaping hole in the side of Remus’ body. His hand trembled, cold and caked with blood. They hurt but he was numb to the aches and pains of himself. He inhaled sharply, his fingertips grazing the fractured bone. He flinched, but carried on. He felt physically sick when he pressed the wound closed with one hand and felt the frail heart throb against his palm.

“D-Don’t …”

Sirius froze, Remus’ word hanging in the air. No one else existed as he used his free hand to cup his lover’s face. He looked a mess, with tears and snot streaming down his face. There were no words to express the grief tearing him up inside.

“No … blame …”

“What?” Sirius croaked. “You don’t want me to blame them?”

Remus closed his eyes, barely managing to shake his head. “Don’t …”

“Remus, look what he d-did t-to you!” he sniffed. “H-he destroyed you.”

“N-natural … o-order …”

“Don’t give me that bullshit!” Sirius snapped. “Not when this is the last … the last …”

He broke down, sobbing into his lover’s hair, not wanting to get his face wet and failing.

Through the blades of grass, Harry saw his godfather duck his head close to Remus, his ear to his mouth, though he couldn’t make out the words. Watching his guardian crumble completely, drenched in his lover’s blood and crying into the mangled hollow of his chest, was too distressing to witness. Crawling the remainder of the way to Draco, Harry scraped as much of the dirt away from the blonde’s features and gestured with his head to give the other two some privacy.

Draco was in no fit state to argue.  


 

 

Harry didn’t know how long they waited. He had tended to the few wounds of Draco’s that he could, sparing as much of his clothing as possible, by the time Sirius crossed the space towards them. In his arms he awkwardly stumbled along with Remus’ body clutched against him. His chest was bound and hidden in Sirius’ jacket, a darker grey stain appearing and dripping blood as he walked.

Seeing Remus’s face so lifeless and white was unnatural.

Harry was going to advice to cover him completely as Sirius drew nearer, but his godfather was lost, his expression haunted. He didn’t even look at Harry, or acknowledge either of their presence as he traipsed on through the bog. Harry watched him go, feeling both defeated and resentful. The image of Remus flashed through his mind again and he heaved bile into the grass.

He spat several times, gasping for air.

Draco’s bare feet appeared beside his.

It was time to get back to the manor. It was not in the fashion that Harry had originally anticipated at the start of their morning. The glass had finally shattered and Harry saw the truth that lay before him; there was no cure. He had failed them all.

And now Remus was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that the chapter ended on such a gruelling note, but this is how I choose to say goodbye to 2018!  
> I promise to post the Epilogue within the week so that everyone gets some much needed closure for the start of 2019.  
> Have a lovely night and please don't crucify me!
> 
> Lot's of Love!
> 
> Bee <3


	8. Epilogue: 12th February 1890

**_Epilogue_ **

 

**_~12th February 1890~_ **

 

 

 

 

After a week the police in the nearest town rules Remus' death as a gruesome attack by some wild beast from the moors. The case was closed and his body was released for burial.

During that week Sirius had locked himself in his room, not even coming out for left-over meals to heat-up. He was desolate at losing his best friend and lover. Nothing could console him. Harry had taken Draco back into London so that he could be examined by his godfather, Severus. The tests were extensive and involved a few painful moments –usually resulting in Draco letting out yelps of pain –but he was soon quietened down with a few splashes of whiskey in his tea. Upon recounting the events that had occurred, Severus stated something Harry already knew and decided; he was to take a break from experimenting for a cure. The constant clash of whatever ingredients remained in both lycans systems, clearly affecting the effects the following full-moon, along with their behaviour during human form.

He hadn't been surprised that such an act of irrational violence had occurred, although he was impressed they'd managed to live in such conditions for nearly two years without an incident.

They stayed in London for three days.

On the fourth day, they bade Severus farewell and went to the train station to begin the long journey back north.

Draco had become introverted and meek, especially in Sirius' presence. It was hard for Harry to witness, however he couldn't deny the fact that he felt better now that the blonde man had no issue in coming to bed with him. However, every morning they were met with the vacant seats at the dining table.

It was as though Sirius had died too.

The grim weather depicted the sombre atmosphere in the manor. It pervaded through the walls and sunk into their bones in the depths of night. Harry had come out of his shell, in some manner, as he begun to take the time to do more manual repairs around the manor and within the gardens, namely the back wall that had been broken. He had numerous cuts and scrapes but that just served to remind him that he was a live. In comparison he was dealing with the loss of his friend and, to an extent, his godfather a lot better than Draco was. The blonde man still perceived everything as being his fault and thus, he carried the burden around with him every moment of every day.

Harry did everything he could do calm Draco's nerves, informing him that he was not to blame. If anything, it had been Harry's own fault, for forcing both lycans to partake in his experiments.

Draco often turned away from him, opting to spend the rest of the day in bed.

Harry was alone for the better part of that week, once they'd arrived back in Scotland.

The day of Remus' funeral came about on the 15th of February. It was a bleak day, with iron-grey clouds suffocating the villages and suppressing all the sound around them. It started to rain before they'd even left the estate grounds. They all took large hats and umbrellas, shielding themselves from the torrential onslaught as they stepped up into the carriage that was to take them into the village.

Before his body had been wrapped, Sirius had gone to see Remus one last time.

He hadn't returned home that night, however when he appeared at the manor the next day he swiftly informed the other two that all funeral arrangements had been arranged and it was to be the following day. It was short notice, but a large payment had secured everything there and then. It had been a surprise but Harry didn't feel the need to comment. The sooner they said goodbye, perhaps they'd be able to get some closure.

In spite of everything Sirius had opted to have an open casket.

The church was empty except for them and perhaps two older villagers who had spoken with Remus in passing. Severus had written, expressing his condolences. It was the one letter Sirius didn't burn. He tucked it in his breast pocket before leaving that morning.

The priest said a short sermon.

No songs were sung, and only a short prayer was uttered.

Remus had never taken too well to all the religious jargon anyway.

The priest allowed them a few moments to make their final goodbyes before the coffin was to be taken out to the graveyard. Harry waited for a few moments to see if his godfather would go up first, however a glance at the older man told Harry that this was not the case. Sirius had his head bowed, eyes closed behind his small, darkened glasses, his gloves clenched tightly in his fists. He was dressed in his only nice suit.

It broke Harry's heart to think that he was responsible for putting such a mild-tempered man into his grave before his time. A tremor ran down his spine and his throat grew thick with emotion, but he fought to keep the tears at bay. He reached out and squeezed the cold, lifeless hand, feeling the urge to scrub his skin raw as the dead flesh remained stiff under his fingertips. There was no warmth, no life. It merely confirmed that Remus had passed on from this life.

Draco came up beside him, trembling from head-to-toe.

His face was taut and pale with grief and despair. From his pocket, he placed a single white fang underneath Remus' clasped hands. There was probably some history behind such a gesture, however Harry was sure it was one that he'd rather not know. There was a lot he did not known about what Draco and Remus had gotten up during their times as werewolves, however that time was over now.

Sirius didn't get up to the coffin until after they had taken their seats.

His words were soft, whispered into the dead man's ear. There was a catch in his voice and he pressed a lingering kiss to Remus' forehead. A single tear raced down his cheek.

Outside the earth was soaked through, water leaking between the paved paths that led around the back of the church. Their feet sank against the tarp that had been thrown down to make their crossing a little easier. It was a depressing little ceremony, another prayer asking the Lord to aid Remus' passing into Heaven and to be welcomed by whomever he had awaiting him on the other side.

The three men he left behind looked on as his coffin was lowered into the grave, disappearing from view. One-by-one, they sprinkled a handful of earth onto the coffin before the funeral came to a close. They stood at the graveside, rain beating down on their umbrellas and hats. Draco was hunched over, his eyes wide and blank as he stared at the gaping hole. Harry tried not to look at it, otherwise he'd envision Remus' corpse dragging itself out and taking revenge. He shook the thought from his mind.

"Sirius, we'd best be leaving," Harry said as he ushered Draco towards the path.

The older man said nothing. His back was ramrod straight as he leaned on his cane. "I'll be back at the manor later," he said.

Harry opened his mouth to argue but Draco's hand on his arm kept him quiet. With one last look at Sirius and the grave, Harry turned away and returned to their coach with Draco in tow.

They rode back in silence, the only sound was the wheels creaking on the earthen road.

 

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

Sirius didn't return to them later that night. Draco and Harry had been in the drawing room, idly reading by the fire. Neither wanted to speak and disturb the calm atmosphere. His shadow passed by the door. The echo of his footsteps was the only indication that he was in the manor at all. He retired to his room and drew the bolt, exiling himself to his solitude and to grieve his loss.

He stayed in there for two weeks before finally, he joined Harry at the breakfast table.

The younger man was startled as his godfather staggered into the kitchen, his hair a wild mass of black curls, his face unshaven and rough and large dark bags under his eyes. His clothes hung off him and he had a ripe odour clinging to him. He sank down into a chair, dragging a plate of food towards him. There was dirt and blood under his nails and Harry recoiled a little at the pitiful state of the man before him. Standing up and away from the table, Harry poured a cup of tea and slid it over to his godfather.

The man ate and drank in relative silence.

"I want you to end this," he growled, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

Harry flinched at the words. "End what, Sirius? Your grieving? I'm not sure that I –"

"No, imbecile!" he snarled, slamming his fist on the table. Harry flinched again. "I apologise," came the gruff response. "I just need this life, all the pain inside it … to end."

"E-end?"

Dull eyes shot up to stare into Harry's. It made him feel sick. "You know what I'm asking for," he growled. "I wouldn't trust anyone else to do it."

Harry stood abruptly from the table and raked a shaking hand through his hair. "N-no. I cannot! You are family!"

"Which is exactly why I'm asking it of you."

Harry pursed his lips together, his head shaking of its own accord. "N-no … Sirius, I can't …"

"If you don't do as I ask, Harry," he muttered quietly. "I shall go outside without protection during the next full moon."

Bristling as images of fangs, blood and cold rain slicing his skin, Harry backed away toward the kitchen door. He had so many things in his head he could yell at his guardian, however words just wouldn't do. Not now. Giving the man one last look of disgust, he turned and fled the room.

Draco found him squirrelled away in the attic later that evening, toying with one of the long, steel needles used to pump the formulas into the two men's before they took their lycan forms. It was warmed by his hands and every now and then he would test the sharpness of the point on his fingertip without drawing blood. With a tentative knock on the door, his head whipped around and relaxed a little when he saw Draco looking wide-eyed and just as anxious as Harry felt. He shuddered a little as he closed the door and made his way over to the window-seat where the brunette man was sat, looking forlornly out over the bleak, grey grounds. The sky was already darkening. Within the next week or so there would be another full-moon. This time there would be no protection from the wrath of Draco's other 'self'.

"I thought I'd find you here," Draco stated once he'd settled himself own with a wince. He was still bruised all over and his scars hadn't completely scabbed over yet. Harry did not envy his lover in that moment.

"I didn't know where else to go."

Draco nodded his head, leaning his back against the solid brickwork. He was as a muscle ticked in Harry's jaw. A tremor ran through him. "What did Sirius have to say?" Harry shot him a look. The blonde gave a thin smile. "Well, he must have said something to you, otherwise you wouldn't have run off to hide."

"I could just be upset about burying our friend."

"Semantics."

"That's cold."

"Yes, it is," Draco agreed. "However, Remus and I had a lot of time to ourselves to discuss things. He was always ready to die, Harry. Whether you like it or not, he made his peace with that as much as he could."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Have you made your peace with it?" Harry licked his lips. "Have you made your peace with the fact that, one full moon, you could be hours away from death?"  
Draco pondered this for a moment. "No," he finally said. "No, I don't think I've quite accepted it all yet. Perhaps I'm naïve in believing that there will be a cure."

Harry scoffed.

"Remus believed that you could do it, you know," he continued.

"Did he?"

"Yes. However, he also knew that he was getting old. He's survived a wonderfully long time. According to his research, very few lycans live beyond their late twenties. It all just becomes … too much."

"He was almost in his forties."

Draco nodded. "And he had the semblance of a family in these last few years. You have to take some good from that."

Harry shook his head slowly but didn't say anything.

"So? What did he ask you?"

"He wanted me to …" he paused, trying to force the words out. Those ugly, ugly words. "He doesn't wish to live anymore. He –He wants me to aid him in dying."

Draco turned to look at Harry in shock before twisting his mouth up. "I see."

"How could he ask me for something so upsetting! So ghastly!"

"He's in pain."

"That doesn't make it right, Draco!"

"No," the blonde said calmly. "However, we have the right to choose our ways of life. Why can't he choose when and how his life is to end?"

"I am not God, Draco. That decision should not be in my hands!"

"Sirius isn't looking for God. He's looking for a way to end the pain and grief." Reaching out, Draco took Harry's hand in his own. "If you are so ready to kill me if I were to turn rogue, why can you not do the same for your godfather?"

"It's different!"

"How?"

"I'd be … It'd be …"

"It'll either be you or him, Harry. Think about it from his perspective. Would you not rather make it as easy for him as possible instead of him, say, making use of his own sword?"

Harry blanched at the image but didn't try to defend himself anymore. Draco's words rang in his head and it twisted his stomach.

They sat in silence for a little while. The sun sank completely beyond the horizon. The attic grew colder and colder. Draco began to shudder rather violently and so excused himself back to their bedchamber. Harry watched him go, feeling the weight pressing down on his chest. It ached to breathe. Could he really do it? Could he really let his godfather slip away and keep his promise? Could he let it happen and turn his back so that he would not –could not –revive him? He clenched his hands into fists and dug them into his knees. He didn't know that he could. He had done a lot of questionable things in his life since moving to London –even more so since he'd moved to Scotland.

Bile rose up the back of his throat.

In the end, he just slid off the window seat and took his time returning to his bedroom. Draco was asleep and Sirius was pacing around somewhere, cursing loud enough for Harry to hear the rumble of his voice. He slipped into his room, allowing his eyes adjust to the utter darkness, before locking them both inside.

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

_Bare feet padded over the cold flagstones. Moonlight filtered in through the windows, casting intricate patterns over the tiled floors, wooden panels and thick curtains that were drawn to either side of the large windows. The silvery light was chilling, making the hairs over his body stand up on end._

_Sirius had fallen asleep sometime after 2am. His breathing was hard, laboured and echoed dully in the dead silence. The door wasn't locked –he didn't like feeling so trapped. It opened without a creak or a whisper._

_The curtains of the four-poster bed were drawn on one side._

_Moonlight shone in through the latticed windows, painting shadows over the distraught man's skin. His hair was fanned out in a greasy mass of curls over the pillows. He occupied the entirety of the bed, whereas before, he had kept comfortably to one side, allowing Remus the much larger space. Now there was no need to be so courteous._

_The needle was long, thin, barely the width of three hairs pressed together. It gleamed in the silvery light._

_Baring his skin, the tip pressed just below his collarbone. The skin dipped inwards, flushing white. His body lurched –a light sleeper –and his bright eyes snapped open. A sharp intake of breath. No fear, no regret or cowardice._

_Relief._

_Acceptance._

_A hand on the wrist. Firm. Warm. Secure._

_Pressing in, pressing hard,_

_Blood rushed to the surface, beading out around the puncture wound. Sinking deeper, deeper –the body spasms. Gurgles from the throat, blood in the spit, choking on the pain. It's tight; it's both hot and cold at the same time and there's never enough air to breathe._

_Finally!_

_The heart!_

_Straight through the centre, out the other side._

_His body jerked again, his breath shallow as he sank completely into the pillows. His eyes were glassy as blood flooded through his chest cavity, beading a little on the skin. It was mostly contained. The pressure was mounting, crushing his lungs. He could feel the cold taking hold of his body. It would be over soon._

_His eyes locked with his murderer, his mercenary. The end of his pain and suffering flecking their hands and soul. Let God show him mercy … It was an answer to a prayer, not a villainous act._

_What was the difference?_

_Darkness …_

_Cold …_

_Numbing …_

_One last gentle press on the chest and –_

 

 

 

 

 

~0~

 

 

 

 

 

" _Harry! Harry wake up!_ "

Jerking away, drenched in sweat, Harry staggered awkwardly out of bed and smacked face-first into the door. He jiggled the doorknob clumsily before it finally unlatched and released him into the hallway beyond. The sun had barely risen, making it easier to navigate the awkward hallways towards the bedchamber down the other end of the manor. A few more shouts indicated that Draco was in Sirius' room.

When he got to said room the door was wide open. Edging inside he wanted to shy away instantly as he saw Draco looming over the bed like a spectre, his long nightshirt billowing gently in a draught. His gaunt features turned to Harry with wide, red eyes. He'd been crying.

Heart in his throat, Harry neared the bed and pulled the curtains all the way back.

Sirius was grey and lifeless, his bloodless face staring up from his pile of pillows.

His hair was a tangled, sweaty mass of curls and the covers had fallen limply around his waist.

The front of his nightshirt was open and stained with blood. It had seeped out from a wound in his chest. Harry was frozen in place, didn't have the heart to go near the body to investigate. Draco looked as though he wanted to say something, to stop him but no sound ever came.

Peeling back the sodden cotton, Harry gingerly pressed the cold chest. It felt weighted, like it was filled with something. Frowning, he pressed down on one side. A thin stream of blood spurted out. Peering closer, squinting in the dim light, he saw the wound. It was small, perfectly precise. A needle perhaps? Poison? Another drug?

He didn't know.

Pressing his fingers to Sirius' throat he waited, holding his breath as he counted. One … Two … Three …

No pulse.

He was dead.

A cold clarity seared the tiredness from his brain. A tremor ran down his spine. Straightening up he shared a tense glance with Draco before leaning down and closing his godfather's milky gaze. There was nothing that could be done for him now. Swallowing thickly, he pulled a sheet up over Sirius' face and tucked it in gently at the sides, not wanting to see the lifeless man any longer.

It took a little while before both men departed the room.

They stood in the hallway, the grandfather clock chiming 7AM.

Draco looked down at the younger man and swallowed thickly. "What're we going to do?"

Harry swept his hair out of his eyes and clenched his fingers over and over. There was a tight twitch in his jaw. "We don't say anything to anyone," he stated. "We'll bury him later tonight. They won't have filled Remus' grave yet, not with this weather. As long as we're quick, no one will need to know."

"Isn't that a little shameful?" Draco hissed warily.

Harry shook his head, "No. I think he would have preferred it this way."

Draco cast one last look at that door. It was daunting to think that the door wasn't about to swing open and reveal the charming grin of the man who had saved them all from the London nightmare they'd all lived. Bile churned in his stomach. Sirius was dead, regardless of how it happened or who did it, the end result was the same. He was dead, his grief had ended.

Adopting a serious expression, Draco squeezed the brunette's shoulder. "We'll tell no one? And we'll get this done tonight?"

"As soon as it gets dark, we'll move his body to the grave."

"I'll make some calls in town. Will you be okay getting him cleaned up and dressed?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. "Yes. I'll be fine."

By 8AM Draco had left in the blustering winds and took their small coach into town. Harry watched him go from an upstairs window. As soon as the coach was out of sight he padded his way back towards Sirius' bedchamber. Seeing the door closed posed an ominous barrier for him, yet he still entered. A chill ran down his spine.

Nothing had changed.

Sirius was still dead.

As soon as he was buried the bed sheets would need burning and the room fumigated.

As soon as he was buried the bed sheets would need burning and the room fumigated. He reached out to drag the sheets aside and felt his foot nudge something cold and hard. It skittered across the floor. Frowning he bent down and peered underneath the bed. Something glimmered weakly. Reaching underneath the frame, he pulled out a small glass phial. Like the ones he used when measuring ingredients up in the attack.

What was it doing in Sirius' room? Had he self-medicated?

Leaning the opening of the phial to his nose, he recoiled at the pungent whiff. Holding the tube up to the light he squinted up at the thick pulp sitting at the bottom. Aconite seeds. They were lethal to humans, especially with such a large dosage as the scum-mark indicated. Clasping the phial in his hand, Harry bent down and pressed a kiss to his godfather's head.

"May God forgive us both," he murmured.

With one final, disparaging glance at the bed, he turned his back on the murder scene and retreated to the safety of the attic.

 

 

 

 

 

_**THE END.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this story has finally come to an end. It was never going to be light-hearted or with much closure involved so hopefully you can enjoy this ending, and the story entirely, for what it is.
> 
> If you have any questions please let me know and I will try to answer them!
> 
> Have a great day and enjoy the remainder of the 'New Year Vibe'!
> 
> Thanks for the support!


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